


Seize the Moment

by surrenderdammit



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst and Humor, Drabble Collection, F/M, First posted in 2007, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Romance, Seize the Moment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-11-10
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2017-11-18 09:23:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 96
Words: 74,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surrenderdammit/pseuds/surrenderdammit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a collection of drabbles I originally posted on FFNet back in 2007. Drabble 1-91 are from the years 2007-2010. </p><p>The warnings are blanket ones; each drabble is different, though some are connected. </p><p>Heavy on romance and fluff but with a dash of angst here and there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Idiot

**Author's Note:**

> The drabbles are all copy-pasted from the original post and so are the A/N up until after chapter 94 (though I've been lazy and mostly skipped out on the A/Ns). I've had no beta and still have none. English isn't my first language and omg some of this stuff is so old like seriously 2007 ok.
> 
> Anyway, just, please excuse any typos/grammatical errors and the occasional OOCness.

Last time he saw her, she had her hair down as usual. However, this morning she had it drawn up in a loose bun. The strawberry-blonde locks looked wild in their restraint and some fell down to grace her back or shoulders in mere protest. The silky hair must be hard to keep in place, he mused, and the thickness of it surely made it heavy and uncomfortable. But she didn't seem bothered at all; sitting on the roof of their division humming happily. He rarely saw her neck this exposed; she looked so vulnerable. It seemed to be so easy to slice that delicate, pale skin. He shook the unpleasant image from his mind, remembering all too well how dreadful it was to see blood on her skin.

Walking over to her, knowing she had sensed his presence long ago, he wasn't surprised when she turned and met his gaze.

"Captain?" Her voice was as deep and smooth as usual, the teasing tone complete with her smiling lips and raised eyebrows. He ignored her sparkling, questioning eyes and sat down beside her to look up at a sky that was far from beautiful. The clouds were of a heavy grey colour, and not even a piece of blue was visible through the thickness.

"What are you doing here Matsumoto?" he asked. "I was looking for you."

She peered at his face, brows brought together in a puzzled frown. It was her lunch break, so unless something had happened, she didn't understand why he would want to look her up. She didn't have to deal with paperwork now!

"I was just thinking sir," she finally replied with a small smile, titling her head; her eyes still on his serious face. "What was it you wanted?"

He let out a frustrated sigh, closing his eyes and putting on an irritated expression. It was his turn to mock her, he mused with an inner smile.

"Matsumoto, have you forgotten what day it is?" he asked, opening his eyes and turning his head to meet the icy-blue orbs of his lieutenant. She blinked a few times, confused, before it dawned upon her.

"Oh," she said before breaking into laughter. "I actually thought you wouldn't remember Captain!"

"Idiot," he mumbled, watching her with a soft smile as she giggled and leaned in closer to him. "How could I forget that day; you nearly killed me."

"But Captain," she said with a grin; close enough for her breath to tickle his skin. "I had never seen anyone looking so cute! I  _had_  to hug you! So  _adorable!_ "

"Shut up, Matsumoto," he growled, before closing the distance between them and capturing her lips in a soft kiss. It was the day of the year he'd become her Captain, how could he forget?

"Idiot," he repeated, voice low and lips only temporarily free before they pressed against hers again.


	2. Just Kissing?

They had been here less than a week, and he already wanted to go back to Soul Society. Living with Matsumoto and Inoue had been more of a problem than he had originally thought. He'd been naïve enough to think his lieutenant would leave him alone if he stayed up on the roof and left the females to their business. But no.

The first night, she'd called for him and said the bathroom was unoccupied and ready to use if he so pleased. He'd rolled his eyes and hadn't moved an inch.

The second night, she called again and told him that yes, fresh air was good for you but that didn't mean he'd have to spend all night trying to be healthy. He'd told her to go to bed and mind her own business.

The third night, he'd watched with mild interest as she climbed up the roof in he gigai. She'd walked over to him with a pillow and a blanket, and a cup of tea. With a sigh, he'd accepted it and thanked her; a bit surprised when she just left. No nagging, no teasing; nothing.

The fourth night however, she hadn't come up at all. He'd been tempted to go look for her, but stayed put. The stars were awfully pretty…but not much to look at.

The fifth night, she managed to sneak up behind him. Crushing his head in between the valley of her breasts, she hugged him and he thought for one moment he heard her sigh. But when he jerked free from her grip and turned to examine her face, she wore her usual smile. She told him to come back inside, and at least brush his teeth, since he'd apparently forgotten to do so. He'd replied that he really didn't need to do it every night, since this was a gigai, and that he didn't feel like going inside yet. She grinned and poked his side, making him jump at the sudden contact, before leaving.

And now he was here. Sitting on the roof, as usual, but no Matsumoto yet. The days had been filled with the usual chaos that came with bored Shinigamis; especially those he was stuck with. It left him almost exhausted, being surrounded with a lack of order he only found with his lieutenant. The irregular pattern of her nightly bothering gave him a headache, because he couldn't see any logic. Of course, Matsumoto Rangiku and logic rarely went hand in hand, but he wished they would. At least now, because nothing in the living world had proved to be good for his nerves. Here, no one respected him as they did in Soul Society. Here, he was a kid with bleached hair and unusual eyes that caught unwanted attention.

His inner musings were interrupted by the giggle of a certain woman. He recognized it anywhere, her laugh, and wasn't surprised when he was clumsily embraced from behind yet again. He didn't bother to dodge.

"Captain!" she cooed, loosening her embrace and placing herself beside him. She grabbed his arm and clung to it, smiling brightly as he glared.

"Let go of my arm Matsumoto," he said with a bored voice, smelling the alcohol. It wasn't sake, he noticed with a raised brow _. It must be something of this world_ , he thought with a sigh.

"Nooo, not until you get inside!" she whined. "Inoue is at Kurosaki's place, and it's lonely without here home!"

"What is she doing at Kurosaki's?" he asked, puzzled. He hadn't noticed her leaving, probably because he was facing the wrong way and too absorbed in his own thoughts to notice the young girl slip away. He hit himself mentally, and was sure to never let his guard down like this again.

"Hmm, she said something about how Rukia wanted to talk to her," she replied, letting her head drop to rest on his shoulder. He stiffened for a moment, before relaxing. He rarely noticed the cold, but her warmth leaked through his skin and filled him up to the point where he shivered slightly at the night air surrounding them.

"Hn, this late?" he commented, mostly to himself. She didn't answer, but seemed to be lost in thought. She shivered against him, making him frown.

"Are you cold?" he asked with a raised brow. When she shook her head, he looked down and spotted the exposed skin of her arms wrapped around his; the goose bumps giving her away.  _I guess I don't have much of a choice,_  he thought before nudging the distracted woman in her ribs.

"Get up; we're going inside."

"Oooh Captain," she said with a grin, her thoughtful expression replaced with a mischievous one. "So that was what you were planning?"

He stood and shot her a suspicious look, extending his hand to help her up. "What are you talking about Matsumoto?"

She didn't answer as she dragged him along, climbing inside with a bit of difficulty because of her intoxicated state. As he came inside closely after his lieutenant, he was immediately attacked by a pair of warms lips. Before he could push away, or respond, she moved away and flashed him a teasing smirk.

"Not here Matsumoto," he growled as she started to drag him further into the room.

"But Inoue isn't home," she whined, "and it's been  _weeks!"_

He didn't need to be reminded of the length of time that had passed since they had been intimate, since it both weakened his resolve and made him more aware of the situation he found himself in. It didn't help that she'd started placing light kisses on his lips and jaw, or that her dainty hands had started to stray from his wrists to…other….parts of his body.

"Rangiku," he groaned against her lips, deciding to give in just a little bit. Just kissing her wasn't wrong, right? She smirked and pulled them both down on the floor, and he had a sinking feeling of dread as he felt his control slip away from him. By this rate, it wouldn't be just kissing, would it?


	3. Cold Spring?

She was pretty proud of herself. She had managed to drag most of her friends to the hot spring, including her Captain, and they were now sharing a rather relaxed bath together. To Toshiro's disdain, it was a mixed bath, and thus he was now trapped between his busty lieutenant and a rather large rock; leaving him little room for escape. It was with great difficulty he managed to keep their skin form touching, but the way she moved as she talked happily to the others around them made it almost impossible. He sat gritting his teeth, ignoring everyone as he tried to ignore the occasional brush of her thigh, her arm, her breast…

"Caaaptain!" she finally whined, addressing him after breaking off her current conversation with Abarai.

"What?" he snapped, wincing slightly at his harsh voice. She seemed unfazed; only flashing him a pretty pout.

"You're making the water cold with that bad temper of yours!" she explained. "Cheer up before I turn into ice!"

A vein popped as he glared at her, trying without success to stop chilling the water.

"It's your own fault," he drawled. "I didn't want to come in the first place."

"But Captain! It wouldn't be same without you!" she said, her pout fading into a smile when he only huffed and turned his head to resume his tries at ignoring her. He pressed himself closer to the hard rock when he felt her hip come in contact with his, to little help. Had she moved  _closer,_  or was it just him?

She started to pick up on the conversation they others were having, and soon joined them in their debate on how much better it was to drink sake directly from the bottle instead of a cup. After a minute, he gave up on trying to avoid the contact of their hips and relaxed since nothing else was touching at the moment. Another minute passed, and he almost jumped out of his skin when he felt the smooth palm of her hand rest against his knee. He stared at her face in disbelief –  _she wouldn't!_ – and quickly answered whoever had asked that he was fine; completely fine.

But he wasn't.

Her hand slowly slid up his thigh, fingers pressing lightly, and stopped awfully close to  _that_  place. His face felt incredibly hot, and he was sure he was blushing. Hopefully, it would be dismissed as the doing of the hot water and not for what was happening underneath the surface. He tried to make her stop, tried to grab her hand and push it away, but it demanded to much movement. He was torn between getting everyone's attention by yelling at her to stop and remove her hand, or just threaten her with paperwork under his breath to avoid too much embarrassment. Not that he hadn't had enough of it by now; he just didn't want more to add to it.

"Matsumoto!" he hissed, her fingers making teasing circles on his skin. She ignored him and continued to talk to the others; feeling very wicked as she slipped her hand down to brush against something semi-hard. He gasped, unable to control himself, and bit his tongue hard to silence the moan building up in his throat. The people around them were too absorbed in their conversations that they didn't notice him squirm, or how her arm moved slightly back and forth.

It wasn't until the water turned icily cold that they turned their attention to the red-faced Captain. He looked furious, and his eyes had a wild look in them. His lieutenant sat grinning innocently beside him, shivering at the cold but otherwise looking pretty satisfied for some reason.

"We should get up now," Renji suggested, sweatdropping. The others agreed, and the men and women went their separate ways. Matsumoto was about to make her way towards the small tunnel-like path leading into the ladies' dressing room, but her Captain swiftly grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him. They were almost alone by now, but he waited until the last person exited the spring.

"You are  _not_  leaving me like this!" he hissed, his tensed muscles almost shaking.

"Tsk tsk Captain; don't dirty the water!" she said, grinning widely. "I'll make it up to you."

Bending out of his grip, she left him seething in anger but he didn't stop her. The now almost freezing cold water helped him calm down, and it wasn't long until he was ready to go to the dressing room and leave.

"I wonder what pissed Captain Hitsugaya off so badly," Rukia mused as she and Renji made their way down the street. The red-head shrugged, not willing to speculate. He  _had_  been sitting beside Matsumoto, after all.


	4. Strength

Toshiro sometimes wondered how much his lieutenant's famous rack actually weighted, and how much strain they put on her back. He was a person of logic, so of course he assumed that such huge assets weren't just soft and warm and something to look at; but also quite a bother. They didn't just cut off his air supply, but as his lieutenant often pointed out, they did the same to her should she find herself in the wrong position. They seemed to be awfully close to spilling out on the wrong occasions too, and since life was filled with the  _wrong_ occasions, she'd had enough practise; which explained her indifference in embarrassing moment such as those.

Staring at the sleeping form of the woman occupying his thoughts, he wondered how she dealt so well with the world in general. Not only her own problems, but also others'. The betrayal of Aizen, Tousen and Gin had been a blow under the belt, and as people bent over in pain and gritted their teeth at the effort of recovering, she still stood tall in a sea of chaos. It was as if she knew her smiles, her jolly behaviour, and her mere presence gave people the illusion of strength they needed in order to heal. And thus, she shone like the lonely rays of sun passing through a forest's roof. He didn't know if this was her way of dealing with the pain, or if she already had accepted it with a maturity rarely seen. Whatever it was, he took as much comfort as others by her kind actions. It left him feeling terribly guilty. He took so much, but he didn't give anything in return, did he? He wasn't sure how to repay her; how to show her his infinite gratefulness at having her by his side watching his back and steps throughout time.

Pushing himself off the wall he'd been leaning on, he entered her room quietly. He didn't know why he'd come here, perhaps he thought he could think of a way to make her smile - to make her smile because of him, and not just for him.

Her sleeping face was relaxed, healthily shaped and beautifully framed by strawberry-blonde locks spilling out wildly. He sat down beside her, softly stroking her cheek. She was on her side, lips slightly parted as she breathed deeply. He let his hand stray, watching it as he moved it down her neck and slipping across her side to graze her back. He applied pressure to his touch as he swirled his hand around in soothing circles; feeling tensed knots in her otherwise relaxed muscles. If they were from keeping her shoulders set and her back straight with a heavy luggage, or from something else, he didn't know. He just hoped this act of kindness would forgive him for sneaking inside her rooms while she was asleep, and made a mental note to try and make up for this invade of privacy too when the chance arose. Good deeds rarely comes unpunished, he mused as he heard her sigh in her sleep. Her lips pulled up in a smile and she mumbled something that sounded awfully close to his name. He left before the urge to slip down under her covers and sleep peacefully surrounded by her warmth overtook him. He wasn't a child seeking comfort after all. He was her Captain seeking amends for leaning so desperately against an already burdened soul.


	5. It's a matter of Knowledge

She was so annoyingly teasing. Her taunts and suggestive comments poked fun at his mental resolve daily, driving him to the point where he snapped. It wasn't just for the fact that her actions irritated him, but that they actually affected him. Over the years, they had developed a strong friendship as well as the loyal bound meant to be between a Captain and his lieutenant. Never mind her dirty jokes or simply implying manner, that was just who she was. Outgoing, outrageous, outstanding….

He knew he shouldn't take her games seriously, but every time she leaned in to whisper in his ear, or drag him along by pulling his hand gently, something tugged at his heart. He felt light, happy, but it drove him up the wall. He couldn't reply when she asked him if she was beautiful, he couldn't reach up to kiss away that sad smile of hers, because he wasn't her lover. He had no right to harbour such deep feelings for his subordinate, when her blind trust pierced him with guilt. Did she know he breathed in her scent as she hugged him close to her chest? Did she know, that he watched her sleep on the couch rather than working? Did she know, did she notice, how his heartbeat increased whenever she smiled her sweet, genuine smile just for him? Perhaps she sensed his embarrassment, his guilt and inexperienced raw love, but did she  _know?_

He prayed she would stay blissfully ignorant for just a little while longer. He had yet to figure out why he desperately wanted her to know, yet would rather die than tell her.


	6. May Flies

"Y'know what Captain?" Matsumoto said, breaking the silence with her smooth voice. The white-haired boy sighed and turned his head to meet her bright eyes. By the looks of it, she had just come across a piece of information that amazed her. This could only end with a headache, he mused.

"I'm not a mind-reader Matsumoto," he drawled. The woman grinned as she muffled a giggle behind her hand.

"Yes, and aren't we all glad!" she stated, but quickly continued as he shot her a I-don't-have-time-for-this glare. "But anyway, did you know there's an insect that only lives for a day?"

"Yes, actually I did Matsumoto. What's your point?"

"Oh, you did? Then do you know  _why_  they're called  _May_  flies?"

"No?"

"Oh, well, I don't know either. Pity. Anyway, as I was going to say, if you were a may fly what would you do on your first and last day in life?"

His brows twitched in annoyance at her question. He didn't have time to deal with her random character right now. He needed peace and quiet, so he could finish these reports in time.

"I don't know Matsumoto. It wouldn't matter, since I wouldn't know I only had a day to live now would I?"

"Hm, don't you think they at least  _sense_  they're going to die? And stop being so logical! Use you imagination for once!"

He sighed again, headache growing strong. How could he end this as quickly as possible? He wasn't surprised to realize he had to play along and let the insufferable woman have her way.

"Alright, I would do whatever may flies do, then drop down dead. How about you?"

She promptly ignored his sarcasm and broke into a radiant smile; overjoyed that he'd asked her.

"Oooh! I would fly into the bar and have some free sake then I would fly into the office and annoy the hell out of you!" she exclaimed, barely containing a laugh as she took in the look on her Captain's face.

"The point of this discussion was…?"

"Oh, I don't know. How you never want me to turn into a may fly?"

He really didn't want her to turn into a may fly. Not just because she would spend her only day in life annoying him, but because 24 hours of Matsumoto weren't enough. Sometimes, things like these made him realize how sad it was that you never got the time you needed. Would an eternity even be long enough?


	7. Leg Fetish

Hitsugaya Toshiro had always considered himself pretty mature and calm when it came to sexual information and interaction. However, Matsumoto  _always_  made him question himself. He might be inexperienced, but he knew enough of the theory and could guess the rest. This was probably the kind of attitude that triggered it all. Matsumoto didn't like theory, she prefer the real deal as she called it. So, she developed a habit of flirting endlessly with him or in front of him when anything resembling a male walked by. It was annoying, but what made it worse what that he  _knew_  her reasons and yet she  _continued_  even though they  _both knew_  it was just to test his precious theory. It almost worked, because whenever she brushed past him with that smile, or eyed him with those icy orbs, he asked himself why he was acting so childishly stubborn if he now was as mature and calm about this as he claimed.

But what did him in wasn't what he'd expected.

He'd seen her breasts once, since they accentually spilled out and he'd quickly moved to stand in the way of the few males walking by so they wouldn't see. When she'd only laughed and put them back in, he'd scolded himself for being naïve enough to think she would've been affected at all by that incident. The affectionate press of lips on his cheeks and the whispered thank you had made him change his mind.

He'd also seen her elegant neck and thin arms on more frequent occasions. He even remembering seeing her ears, otherwise covered by her hair, as a wind lifted the strawberry-locks like a curtain. She even took off her shoes and socks on warm days, to spread her strangely perfect toes, and left two narrow feet for him to see. Then there was her constantly exposed cleavage.

What he hadn't seen though was her  _legs._ But standing in nothing but a towel, her hair up in a bun, Toshiro saw more than her chest, neck, arms and ears. He saw  _them._  They were slim and looked very strong; her muscles firm underneath silky skin. She was still damp from the bath she'd taken, and the drops of water shone in the light as the slowly traced the form of her thighs and the curve of her calves. He never thought they could be so perfect, so unscarred and elegant, that he almost couldn't take his eyes away. He'd never considered himself being even a bit kinky or anything of that sort before.

But Hitsugaya Toshiro had a fetish. For Matsumoto Rangiku's legs.


	8. Birthdays

He remembered the first time he danced. It was on his first birthday that he celebrated with his busty lieutenant on the first year they'd met each other. Of course, at the time he hadn't even planned on having more of a celebration than he usually had. At the time, he didn't know she had found out when his birthday was. But as it turned out, nothing escapes Matsumoto Rangiku.

Bouncing of joy and smiling in smugness, she'd entered the office with her hands behind her back. He hadn't been able to do much, and had watched with wide eyes as she put down a nicely wrapped present on his desk before pulling him out of his chair for a dance. She'd been drunk, as per usual, and as she led him clumsily across the floor he almost failed to prevent her from tripping and hitting her head pretty badly on her desk. When he'd calmed her down, and asked her what was going on, she'd replied that she loved birthdays. She said she'd been dying to know when his was, and after a talk with his childhood friend Hinamori, she finally possessed the knowledge. He'd chosen to ignore this and open his present, revealing a new brush and inkpot with beautiful patterns carved in.

As the years passed, he grew more and more used Matsumoto's peculiar love for birthdays; others' and her own. Thus it was with a great pang of confusion he received the request to forget her birthday and any present he'd planned to get her. He couldn't understand the serious face she gave him, or the sad smile as he asked her _why?_

"It's not my real birthday," she'd explained quietly. He got no more out of her, and it annoyed him to not know what made that day so special is it wasn't her real birthday. He would continue to wonder, until the day finally arrived.

He found her sitting alone in the bar, eyes distant and sad as they always were when she thought of Gin. Approaching, he quietly sat down opposite of her and pierced the bubble she was in with his blue-green eyes.

"I don't know my real age or my real birthday," she began, "because I've always been alone. But then, Gin appeared. I was exhausted, lying on the ground almost starving to death. He offered food and shelter."

He stayed quiet as she told her story, watching the emotions play across her face, and it was enough because she continued with a slightly clearer voice.

"He asked me when my birthday was, and I told him I didn't have one. So he gave me that too. He said that the day we met, the day I wasn't alone anymore, would be my birthday. I was so happy." Her voice slowly faded away, still smooth and even and not shaky from the sadness playing behind her eyes. He wondered if she had told this story about her past before, after Gin's betrayal. He doubted it. A warm feeling burned at his heart as he met her gaze. He felt special, and proud to know something like this about the beautiful woman. He felt a need to take her hand, to squeeze it in a gesture of comfort and gratitude. He hesitated as she turned her gaze away, looking out the window, but gave in and took her hand in his.

If she wanted, they could share his birthday.

 


	9. Truth

"Stop it! We are  _not_  doing it here!" he hissed, fighting off eager hands. His robes were already half open when he managed to grab her wrists and force them off his person. The strawberry-blonde attempted to pout but failed as she broke into a grin. Leaning down, she captured his lips in a passionate kiss; ignoring his wishes happily. As he absently kissed her back, he tried to decide what to do. He could let go of her hands, and push her away, but then he'd probably lose his clothes to the hungry woman. No, he'd have to either give in or take her somewhere else where it was safe and where he didn't have to worry about someone walking in on them. It was too early to let the world know the icy Captain had finally given in to his lieutenant's charms.

"Matsumoto! STOP!" he gasped when she finally broke their kiss; bending free from his relaxed grip to tug at his clothes impatiently. She didn't listen or stop attacking him with kisses and touches, and he felt he needed to act fast. He surprised her by knocking her down on the floor; pinning her down with his hands on her wrists on either side of her head while he straddled her hips. She grinned up at him, the heat emitting from her eyes as exciting as ever. He couldn't help it; he leaned down and kissed her deeply as their moans mixed like pleasant music in the silent office.

He was going to stop soon, honestly, he was. But it couldn't hurt to kiss her a bit more, could it? His thoughts shattered as he felt her hips grind against his crotch; causing him to gasp and almost choke on a low groan. She was trapped underneath him, yet he didn't feel dominant at all. Growling, he left her lips to nibble at her earlobe; licking and sucking at the sensitive skin of her neck. He took pleasure in knowing there would be marks left on her pale skin; a proof that she was his. He absently wondered if the marks from last night were still visible on her stomach and lower, but just as he made his way to check; someone gasped loudly.

The loud gasp was followed by several things hitting the floor, and the two lovers snapped their heads up to stare with wide eyes at the intruder. Standing in the doorway was their poor 4th seat, with heavy stacks of paper and folders spread around her feet. Matsumoto felt a pang of pity for the girl as she ran away with tears in her eyes. She didn't help her Captain understand as he stared dumbfounded at the empty doorway, but chose to keep the girl's crush on him secret. It saved the poor thing from embarrassment, right? Hitsugaya Toshiro only wanted her, according to his previous words a few days ago, so the girl would be rejected. To test his truthfulness, Matsumoto reached down and lightly brushed the bulge in his loose pants. He hissed and tensed, looking down at her with narrowed eyes; lust barely concealed with anger. Perhaps he had been telling her the truth then.


	10. Cycle of Horror

Matsumoto had been acting strange for the past two days. Perhaps it was to be expected, since he had only known her for about three weeks and should by no means know her behaviour pattern yet. Even so, her new Captain felt that something wasn't…. _right._  He had seen her frown before, but it had always been with either a pout or a mocking edge to it. Now, however, she was sitting by her desk, frowning and glaring a hole in her stack of paperwork. This was, by no means, something new. He'd seen her do it the first few days of his Captainship. But, he noted, she had never looked to truthfully  _bothered._  It was like she wanted to whine, and complain, but instead of doing it she kept quiet and ever so slowly she made her way through dull reports and requests. This was something completely alien. And it didn't feel right. He knew he should accept this new attitude of hers, and add it to what he knew of her, but he couldn't. It felt like he needed to do something, but he had no idea what.

"Captain?" she called, titling her head and shooting him a puzzled look. He'd been staring, and a light blush spread across his cheeks when he realized this. The feeling of getting caught doing something he shouldn't returned and memories of their first meeting flooded back into his mind. He'd been expecting her, but what he'd seen as she'd entered their office hadn't been anything near the meek-looking woman he'd had in mind. Her chest had immediately caught his attention, and he'd blushed when she'd sent him a knowing grin. He felt the same now as he did then, but this time he didn't remove his eyes from her but kept staring straight into her icy-blue eyes. She shifted under his gaze, trying to hide a wince as her breasts bobbed lightly. He resisted the urge to lower his eyes, and absently noted that there was, in fact, something wrong with his lieutenant.

"What's the matter, Matsumoto?" he asked, leaning forward. "Are you unwell?"

For the first time, she blushed. The image would be burned into his mind forever, without doubt. It wasn't a blush of shyness, but of embarrassment. He had dismissed the possibility of her having anything even resembling modesty when she'd crushed his, her newly assigned Captain and complete stranger by then, face into the valley of her….things…in a literally breathtaking hug.

"Err, nothing Captain! What makes you say that?" she asked, laughing nervously. She winced again, the movements obviously a bit painful. Could it be a hangover? But she'd never acted like this over one of those before, and the way she kept massaging her lower stomach perked his curiosity.

"You should go to the 4th division, Matsumoto. If you're feeling ill, then do something about it," he said, frowning. The woman breathed in deep before letting it out and collapsing on her desk. Her face held a miserable expression as she stared at her Captain with a look of helplessness.

"You really don't know, do you?" she asked off-handily. Her question, sounding more like a statement, made him stiffen and feel slightly offended. He knew lots of things, he wasn't called a genius for nothing!

"I don't know what?"

"The pain of being a woman! The torture of fertileness! The endless cycle of horror! The aching week of the month! The heightened sensitivity of every damned sense you could name! The bloody hormone-feast that's scheduled to host at least twelve times a year! That thing that shouldn't haunt dead  _souls!_ THAT THING!" she finally burst out; her temper snapping at the strain she'd put on it. Her Captain sat staring at her, eyes wide in realization and cheeks alit in the most glowing colour of red she'd seen.

"You have the day off," he announced after a few moments, breaking the silence that followed her outburst. He really, really didn't want to get involved with the nature of females; especially his own lieutenant's. As she left their office with cheerful thanks, he breathed out a sigh of relief.

For that day on, Matsumoto suspected her Captain knew as well as she did when it was that time of the month again. Not that she minded, if she played her cards right she got a free day off after all….


	11. Fast Food

Matsumoto was overjoyed; she'd found a most wonderful place after a long day shopping. But it was nothing compared to her Captain, who'd been dragged along for the simple reason that he needed  _one_  shirt and  _one_ pair of pants. He slumped down on the chair in the 'restaurant' and frankly didn't give a damn if his lieutenant ordered something distasteful for him or not. The name of this food place was  _The Kebab Bar_ , and it had caught his alcoholic subordinate's eyes immediately. The fact that she knew kebab was food, when he had not the slightest idea what it was, seemed to only further strengthen her absolute pressing need to go to this bar thingy.

Much to her discharge, she found out that it was only a place to buy food. Nevertheless, she was hungry. So she ordered a medium kebab for her and a big 'kebab plate' for her Captain since she had no idea what it was and she wanted to know. Ordering the brownish, bubbly drink called coke (which she had taken a liking to, since it tickled her nose if she drank too fast) and something called 'sprite' for her white-haired companion.

"Here you go!" she chirped, placing the tray with the food on the table. The nice clerk followed closely behind and put down a second one, which was hers. She thanked him before sitting down and giving Toshiro his wallet back.

"Oooh this is delicious!" she exclaimed after the first bite as he pocketed his black wallet. He raised a brow and grabbed the fork beside his huge plate of what looked like pieces meat covered with a pink sauce and lots of fries. Green leaves with the name cabbage and various other vegetables lay in a pile among the enormous sea of food, and he dimly wondered if he would be able to eat even a third of this monstrous dish. Taking a bite, he had to admit it was good. Very good, in fact. He watched with an amused smile as Matsumoto gave the name of fast food a new meaning; stuffing herself with the weird meat. She didn't have a plate like he did, but hers was in a piece of bread and there was no fries. He didn't want to know why she'd ordered something different for him, since he already knew it wasn't out of kindness.

"I'm stuffed!" she finally announced, everything but the paper that had kept her food together gone. She had most of her drink left, and sat sipping contently as she waited for him. To his surprise, he had already managed to get half of the content on his plate down. He gave up as he finished the second half, and quickly took a big gulp of his drink before fighting down a burp that would embarrass him to no end. Matsumoto didn't possess the same knowledge of manners, or perhaps she just didn't care, and gladly let the world know she had indeed enjoyed her meal.

"Urgh, Captain, I need to pee!" she whined as he sighed and leaned back in the chair. What delicate choice of words for a lady.

"They have toilets here," he noted, looking around and spotting the sign WC a bit further down.

"Ah good!"

"Drink up," he ordered when she made no move to stand up, "and get going."

"But Captaaaiiin, if I drink more I'm gonna wet my pants for sure!"

He stared at her, wondering how she could be lieutenant with that kind of intelligence and memory.

"I thought you were  _going_  to the toilet?"

"OH!," she exclaimed, realizing her stupidity before bursting out laughing. He watched her stand and walk over to the toilets, giggling slightly. His lips turned up in a smile and he shook his head while sighing. He was exhausted after the shopping; head almost spinning after all the clothes he'd seen Matsumoto try on. Okay, so today hadn't been  _that_  bad. But still, his feet were  _sore_  dammit. Seeing Matsumoto in flimsy dresses and beautiful gowns didn't make them better, despite the pleasant memories etched in his mind.


	12. Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Major Character Death

She was willing to do anything for him. He wasn't aware of this, and she didn't care that it caused him to act ignorant without him realizing it. She was the only one to see him acting like such a fool anyway, because she was the only who knew. When he yelled at her for acting too rash in battles, or when he ordered her to think of herself instead of everyone else, he didn't know the reason to her secret smile or mocking sigh. And she was fine with that, because she didn't think he would like the truth. No, she didn't think he'd like it at all. Yet she felt the need to tell him, at least once, before she died.

Her stomach was pierced; blood seeping out of a deep, deep wound that would never be healed in time. She stood between two men, two people she loved beyond words. The sword that was planted so deep within her was meant for her Captain, the man behind her. She couldn't always watch his back, sometimes she needed to block the blows to his face too.

Her lips turned up in a smile as she stared into the eyes of the man who had given her life, and was now taking it away. They were usually closed, but now as he stared at what he'd done, they were wide open in horror. He knew she would die, he knew she'd give up her life for her Captain. He knew, that he'd broken the one promise he'd wanted to keep; to never, ever, turn his sword against Matsumoto Rangiku.

"MATSUMOTO!" His opponent, the short white-haired boy, voiced his own pain in the form of her name. The woman panted as Gin slowly removed his sword, staring into her blue eyes as she dropped to her knees; the only thing keeping her up the arms of her Captain.

"Just thought you should know," she mumbled, "that I love you, Toshiro."

As the life in her eyes disappeared, the shocked boy didn't know how to react. She had been right; he didn't like the truth. Now he didn't have much else but regrets; regrets of not taking the risk, not taking the chance, and admit to his heart that he loved her more than she could've ever imagine.


	13. Woman

How long had she been at it? He didn't know, but he desperately wanted her to stop. He barely knew what he agreed to do, but he didn't care as long as she shut up and promised to leave him alone afterwards.

"Thank you Captain!" she said in a happy voice; smiling brightly at the frowning boy.

"What was it you wanted me to do?" he asked as she dragged him towards the bathroom. She didn't answer, but pushed him down on the toilet seat and went over to the washbasin to fish up a plastic can from steaming hot water. He watched with puzzlement as she dipped a flat wooden stick into whatever the thing contained and started to stir. She sat down on the floor before him, and put the can between her legs which were pulled up a bit.

"I want you to wax my legs Captain," she explained with a smile. He stared at her, not quite understanding.

" _Wax_  your legs? Are you going to turn them into candles or what?" he asked, annoyed. The blonde laughed and shook her head, smiling at his ignorance.

"No, I'm not. You'll see. I'm gonna apply this wax, then you take one of these," she paused to show him a neat pile of paper-like slips before continuing, "and put them on the spot. Then you pull slightly at my skin, backwards, and you jerk the slip a bit upwards and against the way the hairs grow. Make sure to pull it  _fast_ , okay?"

"It sounds painful," he noted with a raised brow. "Why do you need to have this done?"

She sighed deeply, as if he had just asked something very stupid. He scowled but waited for an answer as she applied the brownish wax on her leg.

"Because," she began, spreading the wax evenly with the wooden stick, "I need it to be beautiful!"

He bent down to take one of the slips, gently pressing it against the trail of warm substance, and raised a brow at her words.

"You don't need  _wax_  to be beautiful Matsumoto," he said with a frown. This whole thing was ridiculous!

"Aww, Captain! That would've been so romantic if you didn't sound so angry." She smiled at him, meeting his annoyed glare unfazed. He knew what to say, just not how, she mused as a warm feeling spread through her body. She barely noticed when he put his hand on her leg and pulled slightly backwards. She let out a strangled yelp as he jerked the slip away; tears forming in the corners of her eyes at the unexpected pain.

"Matsumoto?" he asked, concerned. "Are you alirgiht?"

"I'm fine!" she gulped, blinking away the salty water. "Just fine! Continue!"

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Why do you insist on doing this if it hurts so much?"

"But Captaaaiiin," she whined, "I have to look my best! I can't go around with  _hairy_  legs; that's just disgusting!"

"Matsumoto, no one but me sees your legs because you're in your uniform, so they wouldn't know, now would they?" he said, pausing to look away and blush slightly before continuing. "And it's not like they'd notice anyway; your hair's too light."

"Aww, you're right; it's only you who sees my bare legs," she cooed smiling; moving up to sit on her knees between his legs. Placing her hands on either one of his thighs, she leaned up and kissed him softly. He responded with a quiet sigh; placing one hand on her neck while the other closed over her right hand. She pulled back an inch or two to stare into his eyes; still smiling.

"And that's exactly why I have to look my best, isn't it?" He blushed at the sultry tone in her voice, but didn't pull away when she pressed her lips against his again. Dimly he thought that she didn't have to go through all the trouble of  _trying_  to look good when she already did, and he wondered why she wouldn't accept the fact that she needn't do anything. It would suit her lazy character, right? But then again, she was a woman.


	14. Organized Chaos

He often found himself wondering how they'd ended up here. His bubbly, carefree, annoying and brilliant lieutenant – and himself; serious, dutiful and patient – together. They were opposites; they created chaos with the clashing of personalities. His hair; white as snow - his eyes; the colour of the chilly sea. Her hair; wild and bright like fire – her eyes; icy and cold like the thunderstorm. Frozen water and burned ash.

Yet they worked together like the scent of flowers in the wind, like the pen on paper. As they fought, they watched each other's back. As they argued, they were sorry. When they kissed, they tasted heaven. When they made love, they moved in sync.

And when he found himself wondering how they survived, he had to settle with the fact that chaos could sometimes be organized, no matter how illogical this was.


	15. Practise

He hadn't known she possessed one of  _those._ He had always thought she always kept them free; unrestrained. But apparently, she thought it looked sexy to wear it and thus didn't care that they barely fit in those cups. And thus, he was faced with a problem he had  _thought_  he would never have to deal with.

The unclasping of a bra.

How was he supposed to learn that? So far, he'd escaped the awkward situation of removing her underwear but how long would that last, he wondered. He decided that he should practise on one of her bras, and cursed heaven and hell for putting him through these embarrassing trials.

Slipping a white, remotely plain (except for the pink laces), bra into the layers of his clothes he left her rooms early to get to work. As the day wore on, he avoided the curious looks from his lieutenant in slight shame for walking around with her underwear in his pocket. What he was going to do with it didn't help his conscience at all.

Finally finding himself alone, and locked up in his own rooms, the white-haired Captain removed the frilly object from its hiding place. Holding it in his hand, he stared at it and marvelled at its sheer size. Twisting at turning it in his grip, he concluded that it was special made, because Matsumoto might have a huge rack but she sure as hell wasn't fat. And the size of the band made to go around her chest wasn't proportional with the cups, not at all.

Looking around, he spotted his pillow and went to get it. He sat down and positioned himself on the neatly made futon before putting the pillow in his lap and setting to work. It took him a few tries to fasten the annoying thing, and he cursed lightly at the thought of having to  _undo_  it.

"Alright," he breathed, staring down at the pillow in front of him. His cheeks burned in embarrassment, and he couldn't help but glance towards the door every now and then. He had locked it, but still… Inhaling deeply, he reached around the soft pillow and looked away. His fingers sought out the clasp, and fumbled around before he got a remotely good grip. After thirty seconds, he finally succeeded in undoing it.

Now, he needed to work on the speed….

-o-

"Oh, Captain, where did you learn that?" Matsumoto asked with slight wonder. At his deep blush, she made a mental note to find out. But right now, they had other things to do…


	16. Trash

"Matsumoto, take this," he ordered, pushing a plastic jar with leftovers into her unwilling hands. She wrinkled her nose in disgust, but did as told when he shot her a cold glare. They had spent enough time arguing already.

Walking away towards the giant container where you got rid of trash and God knows what, Matsumoto took a deep breath and held it; refusing to take in the stale air when she arrived at the big stinking box of metal. Today they were helping Inoue clean her apartment, and had borrowed Ichigo's father's car to go to the big dump where you left things such as metal cans and what-not. Sadly, there had been several plastic jars and cans with leftovers in the car and as the dutiful and annoyingly proper Captain he was, he had decided they should clean them out while they were at it. Since she hadn't wanted to touch the weird objects going straight into the 'metal' trash, he'd assigned her to the moulding food.

"Urgh," she mumbled as she tried to shake the creamy content out of the box. It hit the rest of the trash with a nauseating sound, and with a final hard shake, she was going to get rid of the last of it. But her grip slipped and the whole thing went flying down into the disgusting trash.

"Wopps," she said, blinking. She turned around and watched as her Captain threw bag after bag into different containers.

"Wopps," she repeated, this time with a slight smirk tugging at her lips. She walked over to her Captain, pouting lightly.

"Captain?" she called. He turned and raised a brow, noticing the look on her face.

"Yes?"

"I dropped the jar!" she said, smiling. He growled and pinched the bridge of his nose; beyond annoyed. She'd been a pain in the ass all day because of the cleaning, and now this?

"Oh, and before you say anything, I am NOT fetching it. It's too far down, I can't reach it. And I'm too big to climb in, so you do it if you really want it back." He watched her as she walked back to the car, swaying her hips smugly as he stood trying to decide what to do. Should he fetch it? Looking over to the container, he decided against it. He'd just buy the man a new one if needed.


	17. Bella Notte

"What do you want?" he asked, looking over the menu to gaze into the frowning face of his lieutenant. She was deep in thought, wondering what would suit her taste. Finally, she looked up but didn't notice his blush, since he covered most of his face with the menu.

"I think I'll take number five," she said with a smile. Picking up the glass of wine she'd ordered, she took a sip and placed her elbows on the table. He nodded and went back to stare at the page filled with weird and delicious dishes. It was their first time eating out like this, like a couple, and his very first time going out with a woman – work aside.

"I think I'll take the same," he said after a while, unable to find anything better and frankly losing interest in trying to decide. She smiled fondly at him, making his blush deepen as he put the menu down and waited for a waiter. They made their order and soon sat conversing lightly, something he'd thought would be hard and awkward. Such an idiot, it was Matsumoto after all. The evening went by quickly, and the nervous knot in his stomach was gone and forgotten as they finished up desert.

"Thank you," she said, taking a gentle hold of his arm as the walked out of the expensive restaurant. He looked away, trying to hide his blush, and shrugged.

"Don't worry about it."

They walked in silence for a while, breathing in the fresh night's air and enjoying each other's company and warmth. He looked up at her in surprise as she stopped; her eyes glued to the sky as a small smile played across her lips.

"It's a beautiful night," she said, the light of the moon and stars hitting her face and making her eyes seem like the finest silver. Her heavy locks shone, falling down her shoulders in soft waves, and he stared enchanted at the sight before him.

"Yes, yes it is," he agreed, smiling softly. "Breathtaking."


	18. Cause

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the upcoming chapters...copy-pasted A/N from original post, because in that I didn't post the drabbles like chapters, but rather posted a few drabbles together in the same chapters. So, uh. Yeah. (Shut up I'm being lazy here but omfg over 90 drabbles to re-post I am so copy-pasting this shit omfg). So yeah from original A/N:
> 
> "Anyhow, number 19 is so TOTALLY based on the song 'Girlfriend' with Avril lol. And number 21 is based on a Swedish song named 'Emma, Emma' by Marcoolio that's just so awesome haha and number 22 is based on 'Shut up (and sleep with me)' with Sin with Sabastian."

He'd always thought it was because of the large intake of sake, but now he suspected it was something else entirely. Come to think of it, she'd always been drinking with Gin when she ended up like this the next day. He hadn't taken notice in the beginning, but dismissed it as payment for drinking way too much. Then he walked in on her dancing with Kira, bottles all around, and jumped to the conclusion she was just sore from the unnatural movements she practised when the part of her brain in charge for motion were drowning in alcohol.

But as he watched her slowly sit down by her desk, wincing slightly, he seriously started to rethink his naïve assumptions that her meetings with Gin were merely twenty bottles of sake and some harmless talking. Because now, while watching the same signs that had occurred back then, he knew what the cause of all her little winces and satisfied smiles shot his way was.

And it certainly wasn't sake, or physically impossible dancing.

Well…at least not  _dancing_ …


	19. Stubborn

It irked her that he could be with Momo, while stealing glances at his lieutenant. Namely, herself. She knew the look in his eyes when he watched her, she knew the feeling in her stomach when his hand brushed hers any moment they could. He wasn't cheating on his girlfriend when he blushed at his lieutenant's smiles. He wasn't cheating, when he talked about her all the time. But it annoyed her, because she knew. She  _knew_  he liked her, and not the girl by his side.

Hinamori Momo was a sweet girl, really, she was. Only, Matsumoto didn't like her. The girl made her uncomfortable, her naïve way of life treading dangerously on the blonde's nerves. Besides, she  _had_  tried to kill her old childhood friend. Not even Gin had done that.

And not only that – the brilliant child prodigy of the 10th division could do so much better. Most thought he should get together with his lieutenant, who personally really wouldn't mind. In fact, she sometimes wished for the current girlfriend to disappear. Well, she had to admit wanting Momo to disappear wasn't fair. But the status and title of girlfriend was another thing.

No, Matsumoto Rangiku mused, he really needs a new one.

He already knew what she felt; it wasn't a secret that she adored him. But he has yet to realize how addictive he is, or how easy it would be to get what they both want. She seriously wondered what the hell he was thinking when he started going out with Hinamori; it was so painfully obvious another woman occupied his thoughts.

So she just needed to break down his stubbornness, how hard could it be?


	20. Rushed Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obviously written before the Hitsugaya-Matsumoto backstory.

Toshiro looked up at the huge buildings and surrounding grounds, wondering what the hell he was doing. Whatever had changed his mind about this?

_Who would want to go to a school for Shinigamis?_

Well, he was here now. Mostly because of one Hinamori Momo, but as he shifted the weight from one foot to the other and contemplated his chances of succeeding in the weird classes she'd mentioned, the white-haired boy was wondering why he hadn't left already.

Sighing, he was about to walk through the gates when a young Shinigami woman appeared by his side. He looked up, startled, and met a pair of stormy blue eyes. Strawberry-blonde locks fell down her shoulders as she straightened herself after the shunpo that had taken her here.

"Oh, look here," she began with a warm smile, "a new student, eh?"

Toshiro blushed as she bent down, coming into an awkward eye-level. She was beautiful, he noted. She was different from Momo, her full lips pulled up in a calming smile adults used towards children. She seemed strong, and the warm spiritual power that came off of her felt secure and reliable. Besides, the armband hanging down on her side indicated she was a Lieutenant of the 10th division.

"Ah, yeah," he responded, suddenly feeling very small compared to the figure before him. The woman giggled, standing up straight to observe him with interest.

"So, what's your name boy?" she asked. He crossed his arms and huffed, not liking the way her voice seemed to tease him.

"Hitsugaya Toshiro."

"Aw, a little Shiro-chan!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. He was about to protest when she gave him that smile again, and the words died in his throat. She couldn't know he hated that nickname, so why should he scold her for it?

"Why did you become a Shinigami?" he suddenly asked, curious. He had always wondered why people went to the academy and got educated for a job that held such responsibilities. The woman seemed surprised, but soon hummed and tapped her finger against her chin in contemplation.

"I followed a dear friend of mine, because I didn't want to be left alone," she finally said, her bright voice evening out into a serious tone. "And now I can finally protect someone."

He blinked, teal eyes reflecting puzzlement. She grinned and patted his head, bending down to come eye-to-eye again.

"Become a great Shinigami, Toshiro-kun," she said with a wink, smiling before she stood and turned to leave.

"Wait!" he called, but it was too late. The woman had already shunponed away, and left behind a trail of dust. He had forgotten to ask for her name. Sighing, he turned and decided to resign to his fate. Walking towards the gates leading into the Academy, he wondered if he would be able to see the beautiful woman of the 10th division again.

 


	21. Control

" _Caaaptaaaiiin, huuurry!!"_  the whining voice of Matsumoto Rangiku sounded in his ear. Growling, Toshiro ran down the street; heart pounding in his chest.

"Just wait, will you?" he said, jumping down the stairs leading down to the park. He moved fast, running past the few people still out. The night's air was cold, and his short breaths came out in small puffs of steam.

" _But Caaptaaiin, the clock is ticking!"_  she retorted, letting out a moan as the sentence ended. He gritted his teeth, trying hard not to fall on the many rocks and sticks scattered across the path he was running down.

" _I'm about to explode; if you don't hurry I'll take thing in my own hands!"_

"Dammit woman, I'm on my way!" he yelled, slightly desperate. If possible, he ran faster and was out of the park in record time. Not much left now. He could hear her moan in the phone pressed tightly against his ear, the sound driving him mad as he crossed the street without looking out for cars. Screw them; there was a maiden in need! Well, not really a maiden, but still.

" _Captaaiin,"_  she moaned; the sound of sheets dull in the background.  _"I'm_ _ **desperate!**_ _"_

"I know, I'm soon there, okay?!" The respond was another moan, followed by a slight gasp. He growled, blood pumping through his body and beating in his ears, lips pulling up in a feral grin when he saw the apartment building.

"Wait for me, okay?" he said before finally hanging up, reaching for the key in his pocket as he slowed his running and unlocked the door. He took the stairs, running up like a mad man with hell's fire at his heels. Arriving to the right floor, and ripping the door to their flat open, Toshiro was immediately pulled inside and attacked by a warm, wet mouth.

"Finally!" the strawberry-blonde moaned against his lips, tugging roughly at his shirt as she led him further into the room. He was panting, and close to exhausted, but pushed her down on the couch with little problem.

Really, she needed to control herself. But then again, so did he.


	22. Tension

Matsumoto stifled a yawn, wondering how someone so cute could be so damned boring. He was the new Captain of her division, her new superior that she was going to spend a large amount of time working with, and he was already boring her to death with his formal and precise speech of what he expected her to do and what-not. Something about a new work ethic, and how he demanded respect and attention. Sighing miserably, she tried to think of something to lighten the mood. All this tension needed to go.

"Captain?" she suddenly said in an even voice, interrupting his rant about her lack of enthusiasm. He fell silent and stared, surprised that she could sound serious.

"Yes?" he asked, raising a white brow in question. She returned his gaze steadily, face straight and mouth set. After a week of random comments and vulgar jokes, was she really going to ask something intelligent? He could barely wait.

"Why don't you sleep with me?"


	23. Difference

At first, she'd been very keen on being on top. He hadn't minded since he knew close to nothing about where to touch, what to do or how to please. Besides, it feels so  _good_  the way she grinds against him, the way she scrapes her nails along his chest and throws her head back – causing strawberry-blonde locks to create a beautiful halo as it flies freely around her.

The first time they'd done  _it_ , he'd done nothing but watch with fascination as she moved and excited his senses in ways he'd never even had time to dream of. His imagination hadn't taken him far, and she showed him pleasure he couldn't even name.

As the nights wore on, he'd begun to explore her, touch her, and found this just as enjoyable as everything else. Her skin was always warm, always so smooth and sensitive underneath his touch. He could make her moan his name, could drive her on as she took them up high before dragging him down to earth in a way that seemed to shatter the world; to stop time and space.

He found himself pretty happy with this situation, but she'd begun to whine and complain that she was doing all the work. It wasn't true; he put his own efforts in. And besides, she always left him with all the work in the office, so it was only fair, right?

Hearing this argument, Matsumoto decided to show him the difference.


	24. Alcohol

Toshiro seriously regretted ever trying to convert Matsumoto into drinking something else than sake. She had ended up trying all the alcohol in the living world, taking great pleasure in outsmarting her Captain as he had forgotten to mention that the drinks had to be none-alcoholic.

After several nights (and days) of drinking, Matsumoto came to the conclusion vodka, whiskey, tequila, wine and beer were the most delicious drugs she'd ever tasted (apart from sake) and Toshiro had thought that had been the worst part of their stay in the living world.

Oh gosh, was he wrong.

The first incident involved beer. It had taken Matsumoto approximately a week to find out that in Germany, and various other countries, there was a festival. A festival focusing on  _drinking beer._  As she'd dragged him to the airport, he thought he'd heard her say something about  _Oktoberfest_  but he wasn't sure. He'd been busy trying to find a way out of the situation he was in. He had, the previous night, somehow promised to take her on vacation. He couldn't really remember how or why he had promised her that, but apparently, he'd had too much to drink (tequila body shots had proved to be a very pleasant way to get drunk).

After almost a full week of a constantly drunk Matsumoto, Toshiro had finally reached his absolute limit (he had a pretty high limit after years with her, but this had just been too much) and promptly pulled her into a taxi and pushed her inside the next plane to Japan with little effort. All he had to do was to remind her that the booze was for free; since they travelled in first class (he figured there would be more in Matsumoto's state because of this, and thus, they would melt in better).

When they got back to the safe familiarity of Japan, Toshiro almost allowed himself to breathe out. He hated alcohol with a new kind of passion now, but when Matsumoto pulled out a bottle of tequila he decided that sometimes, it was bearable.

 


	25. Daring

"Absolutely  _no_ , Matsumoto."

"But  _Captain_  she's allowed to have it! Why can't I get one too?"

"Because, I said  _no_. I do not care if she is allowed to, all that matters is that  _you_  are  _not._ "

" _Whyyyyy??_  It's pretty and it wouldn't bother you! Unless you secretly don't want anyone else to see me in it? You don't want to share your lovely, beautiful lieutenant?"

"……"

"Awww! That's so  _cute_ Captain! I never knew!"

"Get off Matsumoto! Stop this nonsense!"

"Please Captain? Pretty please? Just for one day?"

" _Fine_ , whatever! Now  _let go of me!"_

"Thank you Captain!"

The Captain of the 10th division later cursed his weak resolve as his lieutenant walked in with a mini-shirt fit to rival one Kurotsuchi Nemu the very next day. He didn't think he would ever live to see a day as long as this one.


	26. Good Thing

He had known from the beginning it was going to end in a disaster. It was bound to be, and he wasn't alone in this assumption. But Matsumoto Rangiku had her mind set, and she would bend to  _no one._

Kuchiki Rukia was  _defiantly_  doing the wedding-invitation cards.

First, he'd tried for several days to make her change her mind. It's not that he really  _cared,_  but he had some dignity left to protect. He didn't think he'd live it down, but after a while he couldn't find the energy to continue with his futile attempts at changing his fiancée's mind. He just had to accept that the cards would be pink with unrecognisable figures consisting of clashing colours and lots and lots of things resembling heats. The latter probably being one of the few things Kuchiki Rukia managed to draw remotely well.

Resigning to his fate, Hitsugaya Toshiro had leaned back and watched with mild interest as the members of the Shinigami Women's Association planned his and his lieutenant's wedding with disturbing precision. He didn't want it big, but they were not listening to any of his complaints even when he used his title and authority. It wasn't until the actual wedding day the gravity of the situation sunk in.

Not only had Rukia drawn him in a  _pink_  dress suit from the living world (she had become quite fascinated in the fashion up there after spending a few days with Ishida at Inoue's orders. Apparently, Rukia was as good with a needle as she was with a pen) but she had illustrated Matsumoto in some kind of bunny suit. Upon further investigation, Toshiro found out it was something like a Playboy Bunny Girl costume from a certain orange-haired annoying teen.

He knew Rukia only chose the clothing for her chibi-Matsumoto because she loved bunnies, but it didn't stop him from demanding every piece of invitation cards back. Matsumoto, now a Hitsugaya, later chided him for being too possessive and taking things too seriously.

When he showed her an edition of the  _Playboy_  magazine Ichigo had given him as a wedding present (along with the invitation card in a frame as the white-haired Captain came to collect it) he had the most wonderful make up sex he had ever imagined.

Good things come out of bad, as they say.

 


	27. Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loosely based on the song "Walking back to happiness".

Never had he thought it would come to this. He hadn't realized what he'd had, hadn't been able to label feelings and  _see_  what was happening. It wasn't until now, when he stood leaning against the training barrack's wall concealed in the pit black night of autumn, that he  _knew_. It wasn't until now, when his pride was wounded and his eyes filled with unshed tears, that he missed it.

Happiness.

He had been  _happy_  with her around. He had smiled secretly, he had enjoyed every moment of her presence even when it was overwhelming in its chaotic force. She was strong, she was kind and beautiful. She was _mature_  and reliable to the extent that he admired her more than his own peers in skills and intelligence. But he had grown too used to it, had taken too many things for granted. The way she seemed to bounce into the room, the way she smiled when her soul was ripped open, the way she offered comfort with little gestures considered simple. He had tried to do the same, but always the same smile would appear; always the same laugh, always the bone-crushing hug and bright mood.

But it was fading away.

The warmth in his office left as time went by; her eyes glazed over more often as she looked upon the past and dwelled on matters unknown. He had been too occupied to stop and take a double turn, too selfish to notice. And then one day, it dawned upon him. She rarely spoke of her nights out as she used to, she had stopped playing games and poke fun at him. Her vulgar jokes and flirting died out and she built up a wall as cold as her eyes.

She was slipping away from him, and what had he done? He had kissed his childhood friend; desperate for someone to hold onto, someone he knew should be there for him. Seeking familiarity, trying to prove no one was leaving him, he had tried, so hard, to heal a broken heart that ached for another man – a traitor. He'd been rejected; he'd been regretting his mistake for days. And now he realized how much he owed her – his lieutenant, his friend. She had distanced herself from him, had used her own way to cope with betrayal and painful memories. She had seen his hesitation as he stood before Hinamori; she had left him alone, giving him a chance to make up his mind. She was too kind, too loyal and loving, to ever leave him. His fear was ungrounded, he was too much of a child to understand the complex way feelings unwind and fade, entwine and grow.

The chilly night's air bit at his hot cheeks and cooled his skin, but he remained unaffected. He needed to sort this out. He needed to talk to her; he needed to make up for what he'd done and the mistakes to which it'd led. As he pushed away from the wall and took a deep breath, blinking away the liquid blurring his vision, he started to walk. Walk back to happiness, that was his goal.


	28. A Matter of Opinion

Autumn has a fresh and uplifting smell to it, she mused. It should be dull and unpleasant, since everything dies and goes to sleep before winter arrives. But it's not. It's a warm kind of cold hanging in the air, a pleasant kind of darkness falling at night. The bright colours appearing on the trees and grounds, the muddy dead leaves sticking to your shoes as you walk down a street where life walks up and down all day; packing the fallen further into the ground. It was all so calming, so natural and unlike any other season. It holds everything; it can seem long and dreary but if you cuddle up in your warmth you find it right, you find it steady. If the rain falls down outside, you can watch it drip down the glass of the window. You can listen to it rattle outside with a cup or warm tea cradled in your hands. Its storms can be cruel, passing by with little sympathy – it's still and quiet sulking can be cold and indifferent. But it all depends on your own opinion, doesn't it?

Some says that dipping bread with marmalade in yoghurt is delicious, others says you're in need of special taste buds to even try it.

Some says he's like the chilly winters; she likes to see him as a warm kind of autumn.


	29. Hide and Seek

She hadn't really planned it, it had just kinda…happened. No, but honestly, it wasn't her fault. The women's bathroom had been out of function and she had really really  _really_  needed to go. So she snuck into the men's bathroom. It had been empty, and she'd made quick business of revealing herself. It all went well, but she hadn't been prepared to get locked inside. The door wouldn't open, and she was stuck in the stall. She hit the door and tried to call for assistance, but no one seemed to hear. No wonder, it was close to the 11th division and most of their squad was off somewhere drinking or fighting. And she doubted her Captain would look for her here. She had spent the whole day hiding from him and really didn't want her to find her here. He was pissed as it was, she didn't need another reason to tick him off. Getting locked inside the men's bathroom counted as one of those things, she was sure.

After five minutes of kicking at the door, she gave up and sat down to rest. She had a hangover and wasn't up for minutes of fighting with a door seemingly rooted to the spot. Another five or ten minutes later, and she finally heard someone open the door into the bathroom. Sitting up she was about to call out when she heard his voice. Typical.

"Damnable woman, leaving all the paperwork to me."

His gruff voice sounded so cute that she was about to let out a giggle, but biting her tongue she managed to keep quiet. He probably hadn't noticed her, because she kept her spiritual energy wrapped up since this morning when she'd fled the office.

"I bet she's off drinking her head off with the brainless goons in the 11th division," he continued. Matsumoto raised a brow and stood as silently as she could; leaning forward to hear more clearly what her cute little Captain was mumbling about.

"She left before I could get a word out. Idiotic woman always runs off to kill whatever braincells she's got left! I swear, if she wasn't so damned beautiful then I would never give her a day off."

She was sourly tempted to jump out and reveal her presence, just to see the look on his face but kept quiet; eager for more. She rarely got a chance to spy on her Captain, and this was a golden opportunity! She couldn't let it slip, could---

"When I get a hold of her again I'm going to fuck her senseless."

Choking on her own saliva, Matsumoto coughed loudly and gasped for air; shocked beyond belief that those words had just left Hitsugaya Toshiro's mouth. Before she could come to terms with what she'd heard, the door to her stall was kicked open with force and she was face to face with her white-haired Captain. Blushing, she looked down into a handsome face with smug teal eyes and a wide, wide smirk.

"Gottcha."


	30. Reassurence

There were many men in her life. Some close, some distant. Some tall, some short. A few lovers, a few friends, a few everything. So many, yet so few, no? She shook her head and sighed. Her thoughts tended to go in circles, willing themselves to take a second turn in fear of reaching a conclusion. She chose to stand by facts, and not speculate. Her friends were reliable, her lovers obeying. Her Gin was gone, and her Captain was here. It was as simple as that, she mused with a frown. Her heart was supposed to stop aching, was supposed to heal and beat strong in her chest. She knew the facts; she had accepted it, hadn't she? Nothing she did would change anything for the better.

The air was lukewarm as it caressed her long locks and smooth skin in the afternoon. The sun shone softly, causing her strawberry-blonde hair to send off a gentle glow, and her eyes reflected the beams like an icy mirror. It was a beautiful sight, but no one could see. Their back was turned, the back of their head all that faced her. She smiled a grim smile; the pain in her chest reminding her of days long passed, of events repeated so often it had become a habit to deal with.

Gin had turned, walked away, and left her with the image of his back. He had come back, only to leave. No matter how hard she clung to him, he would always free himself and walk away. But this was different; this was her Captain's back. He was walking away, yes, but he  _knew_  she was right behind him. It was a different kind of habit. She didn't have to cling to him, she just had to watch his back to make sure he didn't disappear. In both senses.

She valued every difference between them. Gin's large back, almost like a wall, and her Captain's small, childish but sharp one. It helped her keep them apart, when painful memories shot through her mind and tore at her heart. Her hands would reach out, seeking assurance, at times like those. While Gin always faded away, her Captain would stop. He would stop, and turn around. His teal eyes - beautiful in his serious face - would meet her icy orbs.

"What?"

Her answer would be a smile, sometimes a giggle or a teasing remark, as her heart calmed and her mind was reassured. They were different, those two.


	31. The Usual Occurrence

He sat stroking her hair absently, watching the leaves sway in the cold air. The sun was warm, and chased away the chill that came with autumn – yet the tip of his nose was freezing, while her head in his lap spread another kind of warmth.

Blonde locks were like silk as he ran his fingers through them; combing carefully. She had her eyes closed, and was smiling softly at his ministrations. It couldn't be much better than this, he thought. It was calm and pleasant in the 10th division – and for once; not chaotic. His Lieutenant was at work (and in his lap, he mused with a grin), the paperwork was done, it wasn't raining outside, and he was  _relaxed._  Something that rarely happened.

On impulse, he bent down and kissed her cheek. She sighed contently and opened one eye to look up at his calm face. The sun made his hair almost unbearable to look at, and she had to focus on his pale lips to avoid the blinding white spikes. He bent down again, this time capturing her mouth and kissing her deeply. She looked so delicious, lying in his lap with her hair spilled out around her head, and he just couldn't resist. His hands left her hair while his tongue slipped past her lips - caressing - as his own moved.

Touching her neck, his fingers lightly traced circles that caused her to shiver. She moaned quietly as his kiss deepened, her hands coming up to grasp the fabric of his white haori as his dropped down to caress her breasts. The slight chill of autumn had her nipples hard, and he could feel them underneath the fabric of her uniform. The sensations of her eager tongue and arching body was almost nothing compared to the pressure applied by her head resting in his lap. It drove him mad, and he nearly snapped when she broke their kiss to smirk and turn her head to lay it on the side; completely ignoring his growling. Her eyes closed again, and as soon as it started, it was over.

He sat fuming, contemplating his next move. Should he try and calm down – resuming the peaceful relaxing that had taken place a minute ago – or should he act upon his instincts?

She decided it for him, as her nose nuzzled the obvious bulge in his pants. Eyes still closed, lips turned up in a wicked grin, she was the perfect image of a sleeping vixen. He groaned as her nose poked and nuzzled against the heat; making his cheeks colour in the usual excitement and annoyance. He gripped a handful of her uniform, knuckles white at the force, and barely suppressed a shout when her teeth gently grazed him. Her tongue darted out, dampening the strained fabric, and she planted teasing kisses that aroused him to the point where he was ready to give in to a rather primitive state of mind.

He moved quickly, holding her head up and lowering it to the floor while removing himself from underneath her. He almost jumped over her, pinning her down with his body and capturing her lips in searing kisses. Her blue eyes were open, twinkling with the mischief he had only felt before. But as his hands roamed her body, caressing sensitive skin and ridding her of annoying clothes, the twinkle faded into a burning haze of lust.

He didn't know if it was a good or bad thing, but this was a normal occurrence in the 10th division. No wonder the moments of calm, the relaxing, was so brief.


	32. Unite

She was so beautiful. She made everything feel so _right._  Her calming smiles, her uplifting laughs, filled his days with content he'd never really felt before. He treasured her company, he craved her touch and the sweet taste of her love was addicting. The kick he got as he almost devoured her, taking what she gave, made him feel high and sick at the same time. He felt like something bad, something dark, that sucked up the sun; the light. But each time, it would always be the same. She would outshine the shadows in the corners; she would seek him out and demand his presence. He never had time to take away everything, because she always took it back. It felt like a dance, like a circle of completion that always left them satisfied. He couldn't deny how well it worked, how good it felt. They worked together as well as white merges with black, creating a shade of grey that made the difference insignificant. He couldn't think of a better way to describe the absurd relationship that made the never ending circle of day and night pale in comparison. It just…fit.

_Dark and Light_

_We Unite_


	33. Suprises

If he was to be the one to define perfection, he knew exactly what to say. All that was needed was a name, because if perfection could be found on earth, she would be it.

It wasn't hard to admit she was beautiful, everyone saw that. Her blonde hair, blue eyes and deliciously curvy body, combined with her bright mood and lack of modesty, left many men speechless. But there was more.

Like the way she would always be there, like how she offered comfort in times of pain, like how her annoying laziness took his mind off many things. It was like she always thought about the consequences, like she knew what effect her actions would have in the end. And it was always, in one way or another, good. Her kind heart, her strength and admittance of weakness pulled him closer. She was like a magnet, an opposite pole that drew him in. But somewhere along the way, he tripped. Such a cliché, but he found himself falling in love, and  _it hurt_ when he hit the ground.

He hadn't expected her to be there to kiss away the pain, but then again, life is full of surprises.


	34. Mr Brightside

How did it end up like this?

Jealousy; it burned in his stomach and he felt sick. He had no right, but suspicions are eating him up. He could see her slipping underneath someone's sheets, could see her hands touch a chest while a man unties her obi, but it was all in his head. These thoughts, this jealousy, were taking control. He couldn't look her in the eyes, he couldn't look at his thoughts; it was killing him.

It had only been a kiss, a press of soft lips against his.

Seeing how she touched another man every night as he fell asleep made him eager to open his eyes in the mornings. He was out of his cage, he wanted her and he couldn't deny it. The deep longing for her burned and he could do nothing to stop it. He needed to act, before it was too late.

Strange, how it started out with just a kiss.


	35. Proving

She thought it was cute how her Captain's eyes would turn icily hard while his cheeks turned a light colour of pink every time a man was bold enough to hit on her. They had just started their relationship, and it was his first, so she suspected a lot of people wondered what the hell she was thinking. It didn't occur to them he was the cutest Captain of them all, or that maybe, just maybe, she really did love him with a passion. So, a few guys (three last night, if she remembered it correctly) had started to try and change her mind. It was terribly annoying, but the expression on her Captain's face as he dragged her back to her quarters made up for it. The things he come up with to put her pursuers down was highly amusing and, she had to admit, extremely creative.

Of course, the fact that he was absolutely adorable as a jealous boyfriend wasn't the only thing making the whole thing enjoyable. She never grew tired of his ways to prove he was much better than anyone else, especially after someone mentioned his height must make it difficult to pleasure her properly in the bedroom.


	36. Devil's Food Cake

He'd never done this before. It was his first time, but he was bent to do it right. He went about the kitchen, taking out bowls and ingredients while his eyes scanned the recipe in the thick book he'd found in their bookshelf.

 _2 cups (400 g) sugar  
½ cup + 2 tablespoons (150 g) butter, softened  
2 eggs  
2 cups (270 g) all-purpose flour _("Does she have to put it on the highest shelf? Ah, finally, I've got i--FUCK!")  
 _6 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder_ ("…damned powdery stuff…")  
 _1 teaspoons baking powder  
2 teaspoons vanilla extract _("Vanilla extract? There's only vanilla  _powder!_ ")  
 _1 cup espresso or very strong coffee (liquid)_ ("Liquid? Well, duh…")

For once, he was glad she always filled their cabinets with all the possible things needed for sweets and cakes. Growing, he put the cup of coffee on the table before moving on to the next part of the list.

 _½ cup butter  
14 oz (400 g) semisweet dark chocolate (40-50 cocoa)  
3 tablespoon light corn syrup _("Corn syrup? What?")  
 _3 tablespoon hot espresso or very strong coffee_ ("OUCH! Hothothothothot!!")

Goddammit, did this never end?

He sighed and looked over the kitchen, seeing ingredients covering every free space. He noted he hadn't been able to get all the flour off the floor, but decided to fix that later. Now he had to mix it all together. Already a headache was building.

"Okay, preheat the oven. Check. Butter and sugar's next. Mix until creamy, that can't be that hard," he mumbled, taking out a bowl and an electric mixer Matsumoto had brought back from their last visit in the living world. He turned it on and shoved it into the bowl, immediately regretting it. The butter and sugar flew everywhere, and when he finally managed to turn the mixer off he was already covered in the sticky mess.

How could someone enjoy doing this? So sticky and gooey and just…yuck.

He considered giving up and just buy her a damned cake, but his ego refused to give up. Taking a deep, determined breath he set to work. Again.

It took him almost two hours to complete the cake, and when he was done, the kitchen wasn't just a mess. It was a messy mess. But he was proud of himself, and grinned as he held up the result of his labour. A dark chocolate cake, uneven and crooked, but still a very tasty looking one. Now, he just had to let it cool for 1 to 2 hours. Looking up at the clock, he cursed and looked around in panic. Matsumoto was coming home soon, and although she was very untidy herself she would freak when she saw the state her kitchen was in. As he placed the cake on the table, trying to decide where to start cleaning first, he heard the door open.

"Hooneeey! I'm hooome!" he heard her call out, a jolly voice filling the room. He winced as she entered the kitchen, seeing her freeze and look around with her pretty mouth hanging open.

"Cake?" he asked, holding up his creation with a nervous smile. When he'd seen the name of the cake, he'd thought it was silly. Now he really thought it fit perfectly.


	37. Matsumoto Demonstrates

"Matsumoto-san… "

"---and there's a lot of things you can say--- "

"…Matsumoto-san? "

"---to put them off and you know you don't have to feel bad about it--- "

"… _Rangiku_ -san? "

"---because they're mainly assholes and besides I promise you you'll enjoy it; some gets this weird expression! It's hilarious! Now, what was it you wanted, Inoue? "

"Um…well, Matsumoto-san, I don't really think I can d--- "

"---nonsense! Of course you can do it! It's easy! Just watch me. CAPTAIN!!! "

"Matsumoto-san, why are you taking off your---- "

"What is it Matsu--- "

"Take a picture, it lasts longer! See, that was easy, wasn't it?"

"….."

"MATSUMOTO!!!"


	38. Troublesome

She was at it again. Coughing and sneezing and looking pale and downright miserable. No matter how many times he told her to stop drinking so much and spending hour after hour out in the cold, it never seemed to get through. And he ended up tucking her to bed. Well, couch to be more exact. Why she always ran out of energy in the office was a mystery, but he didn't feel like carrying her to her quarters in the state she was in.

"My lower back huuuurts Captain," she whined, eyes tightly shut as she shook her head weakly. He sighed, just done with covering her shivering shape with a thick blanket he had stored away for occasions such as these. Time had taught him many things, and he'd be damned if he weren't prepared for anything by now.

"It's because you're sick, Matsumoto," he stated while standing up straight and looking down at her. She cracked one eye open and pouted.

"Can't you give me a massage? It's not just my back! It's my neck and shoulders and----"

"----I will do no such thing. You're ruining your own health, it's your own problem," he interrupted, raising a brow and crossing his arms over his chest. Her pitiful expression almost made him roll his eyes as he sighed and walked away to sit down by his desk.

"So cruel Captain!" she exclaimed, voice breaking just a bit. She was going to get a sore throat soon, when the cold broke out at full force. He shook his head, reaching for his brush.

"You never listen to me Matsumoto, I've told you several times to not---"

"---drink so much and stay out in the cold, yes I know. You're so cute when you're worrying Captain, did you know?" The teasing was lost when she went into one of her coughing fits, making him frown at the rasping and hollow sound. She needed sleep.

"Just go to sleep Matsumoto. That's what you do best," he said as he started to look through the first paper in his stack. He could almost bet she was pouting, but couldn't see since his teal eyes where currently darting from side to side, up and down, to take in some words that apparently was important enough to end up on his desk. Or maybe these were his lieutenant's?

"Meanie," he heard her mumble. Another fit of coughing, followed by a sneeze. She shifted, curling up into a ball, and coughed some more. He looked up to see her shiver, desire the thick blanket covering her. Putting down the brush, he frowned and stood. While taking off his haori he walked over to the couch again and draped it over her body. It wasn't much, but seemed to be enough. She smiled and reached out through the blanket to take a hold of his hand; squeezing lightly.

"Thanks," she said, eyes closing. He sighed, again, and wondered how she could look so cute with a red nose and sickly pale complexion.

"I'll give you some rest then you're off to the 4th division Matsumoto. I need the little assistance you offer; I can't afford having you sick. Troublesome woman."

"I'll do my best Captain. I'll be up and about in no time!" she mumbled with a smile as he return to work. "Don't worry."

But he did.

Really, she was so troublesome.

 


	39. Gay Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written before we knew Haineko was a girl.

During all the years they'd worked together, he'd grown pretty fond of the lazy bum that spent most hours of the day asleep. Like a true cat, he could care less of the world around him when it was time for a nap and this annoyed him to no end. Not even when the office became unnaturally chilly did he stir from his sleep.

That – plus the mood swings and constant up-to-no-good behaviour – was enough to drive anyone mad. So he didn't think much of it when he realized why he could stand him.

So what if he was gay?

They way he swayed his hips as he walked, the way his tail twitched from side to side…that way his eyes shone with mischief and the way his purrs reached a level of sultry seduction…who wouldn't fall for that? How he loved it when that pink tongue would dart out, slowly licking silky smooth fur that just  _begged_  to be touched. How he loved it when he could turn to lie on his back, showing off a soft-looking, perfectly shaped and very inviting stomach. It made him want to just---

**\--- _HYORINMARU!!!_**

The ice dragon sighed, shaking his head.  _Oh Haineko, will we ever be able to be together for real if my wielder keeps this up?_  If only he could get over his unwanted pride and go for it. Haineko's wielder was gorgeous, what was the problem?

Really, sometimes he thought the white-haired Captain needed a matchmaker. Haineko proved to be pretty excited about the idea, so he didn't complain when the ash cat started plotting. After all, he wouldn't be the one suffering from it. All he got was more time with Haineko, and that was all he wanted.

He almost felt sorry for the young boy though. He was in for one hell of a surprise.


	40. Wait

Hitsugaya Toshiro gritted his teeth as he tried to walk as normal and un-limping as possible. He blinked and tried to keep the blood out of his eyes, gaze fixed on a heart-wrecking sight a few feet away. She was lying on the ground, robes coloured red by her blood, and her face was hidden underneath tangled locks of strawberry blonde hair. He couldn't see if she was breathing yet, he couldn't see if the life had left her eyes or not. He picked up his pace.

"Matsumoto!" he called, falling down to his knees beside her. Reaching out, her grabbed her shoulders and heaved her upper body up to rest in his lap. Her head lulled to the side as she blinked; breathing weak and shallow.

"Matsumoto!" Her name came out like a hiss, the urgency in his voice spilling out like water in a strainer. She jerked her head straight and stared up at him, suddenly aware of the world. She felt numb, the pain throbbing somewhere in her body as she struggled to breathe. It felt warm, resting her head against his lap. She smiled and turned her head to the side again; nuzzling into his robes and feeling how the muscles in his stomach clenched at her nose's touch.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, reached a shaking hand up to rest on his stomach. He gritted his teeth, unwilling to admit that the blow to his mid section had taken its tool.

"No," was his answer. She smiled, poking slightly as she let out a teasing giggle.

"You know Captain, you're supposed to make a sound when you're in pain," she mused when all she got was a hitched breath. He growled and took a hold of her wrist; keeping her from making the situation worse. He was already on edge; he didn't need a wounded Matsumoto making jokes too.

"Try moaning like you're having an orgasm," she continued, making him freeze in shock as he stared with wide eyes into a beautiful, thoughtful face tainted with blood and bruises.

"Matsumoto, just shut up," he growled, cheeks flaming red in embarrassment. It wouldn't be long before the 4th division arrived, and if that time could be spent in silence he would be overjoyed. But this was Matsumoto. She wouldn't stop talking even if her life depended on it. Which, currently, it did. He wanted to shake some sense into her but was afraid to even move an inch now that she was safe in his hold.

"You  _have_  gotten an orgasm, right?"

He groaned. This was going to be a long wait.

 


	41. Ringtones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now this just makes me think of Adler in the BBC Sherlock series.

Of course it wasn't just  _that_  which had landed her in the arrest. He was very strict when it came to mixing work with the private life (he only gave into her office-seductions after the paperwork was done, so that didn't count as during work hours).

No, it wasn't really because of  _that._

Honestly.

Misfiling important documents and picking a fight in the bar was enough to temporary put her behind bars. Really, it had nothing to do with  _that other thing._

Gritting his teeth, Toshiro tried to suppress the scene re-playing in his mind. He knew no one would ever forget that incident, it was just too priceless. But that wasn't the only thing bothering him.

How the hell had she managed to record  _that?_  He couldn't remember her having her cell phone while they were doing it –  _after work_  – and why, in the name of everything holy and unholy alike, had she  _used it as a ringtone?_

The sound of himself moaning her name would haunt him forever, in an entirely new kind of way. He would never be able to be vocal again, or so he thought. It turned out to be pretty enjoyable to have Matsumoto try and make up for it.


	42. Books

She knew he had always been a cute little bookworm. There were hardly any books left which he hadn't read or scanned through in the library, and that made it hard for people to know what books he hadn't read. So he never got any for his birthday.

But this time around, Matsumoto was sure she had the best book ever. A book he, surely,  _couldn't_  have read. From what she knew, it wasn't in the library. It was from the living world and it went against everything that was Hitsugaya Toshiro. Well, kinda. She recognised some of the things in the book and guessed he wasn't as pure-minded and innocent as he seemed. But, being male, he probably had a dirty imagination. She didn't complain.

Shifting from foot to foot, Matsumoto tried to control her excitement. The book was nicely wrapped, with a silver ribbon and white paper, and rested between her arms and huge chest. He was late, but only a few minutes. He would be here soon. Biting her lip, she giggled and spun around; coming to a stop when the door opened. Facing her Captain, Matsumoto smiled and quickly ran over to place a soft kiss on his lips.

"Happy Birthday!" she chirped, thrusting the package into his hands. Blinking, Toshiro raised a brow and grinned. He could feel it was a book, and was extremely curious to what she had come up with.  _But first…._  He kissed her, running his free hand up her arm to rest on her neck. She tasted sweet, no hint of sake he noticed with surprise. Breaking away, he stayed close to gaze into her bright, excited eyes. His thumb stroked her jaw, taking in the feel of her soft skin.

"Thank you," he said with a smile, still not used to her enthusiasm concerning birthdays.

"You haven't even opened it yet!" she said pouting, poking his stomach as she spoke. He grinned and kissed her again, amused by her reactions.

"Okay then, let's see," he murmured as he broke away again. She stepped back to give him enough space, humming happily as she watched him unwrap the present. He undid the ribbon, letting it fall gently to the floor, and carefully opened the white paper. As the book came into view, his eyes lit in recognition. A slight blush coloured his cheeks as he stared, amusement almost taking over the embarrassment.

"YES! I found a book you haven't read!" Matsumoto exclaimed, suddenly embracing him and pressing her soft breasts close to his chest. Letting the book fall to the floor, Toshiro snuck his now free hands around her waist and pulled her even closer. She froze as he placed his mouth by her ear; letting his tongue slowly trace the shape or her earlobe.

"Don't get so excited, Rangiku," he whispered with a smirk. "Contrary to your belief, I  _have_  read it."

Parting his lips and placing them on the piece of skin most sensible behind her ear, he sucked. She moaned and whimpered, his hands moving down to grab her thigh and hold it up; making it easier for him to grind his hips against hers. Clinging to his form, she was about to protest. How was it possible that he'd read  _that_  book?

"Actually, I haven't just read it," he murmured through kisses, moving along her jaw to stop and hover just half an inch away from her lips. "I've studied it very _carefully._ "

She almost fainted in shock. Hitsugaya Toshiro, reading through a _Karma Sutra_  book?

 _Well_ , she mused as his kisses trailed down her neck,  _it is a book after all._

_A very good book._


	43. Trying Dare

It was silly, really. He could just ignore it and continue with life as it had been before. But his pride stung, and he was set to prove that he wasn't  _weak_.

It had all happened pretty quickly, and he couldn't really remember how it had started. But somehow, he'd found himself playing a game yesterday. Truth or dare; a game Matsumoto had insisted he'd try. Thinking no harm could really be done, he'd joined in her and her group of friends. At first, it had been so silly he'd fought the urge to roll his eyes. Then it became amusing, as Renji had to jump on one leg and cluck. But he started to get annoyed as Matsumoto was dared to "propose" to Yumichika, and was ready to snap when she had to  _kiss_ Ikkaku. Never mind it was just on his head, those full lips didn't belong there. Or anywhere else either. Just on him. Blushing, he'd grumpily announced 'dare' when Matsumoto had turned to him. Her smile was wide and the twinkle in her eyes had been wicked. He should've backed out there already.

_"I dare you to go two weeks without any physical contact with me."_

That's what she'd said. He'd blushed, and ignored the others' taunts as he agreed with no complaints. She'd just smiled at him, like she knew he would fail, and he'd felt a strong urge to prove her wrong.

But it was easier said than done.

After only half a week, his hands were itching for a light brush – just a brief touch – but he fought the urge to stroke her hair as he passed the couch she lay sleeping on. By the end of the week he was ready to kill himself. It didn't help that she was constantly so  _close_ , so teasingly  _within reach._  She was playing dirty and she knew it.

"Captain," she called while walking over to his desk, swaying her hips smoothly. He'd become more aware of her movements recently, he mused with a frown. "Are you done with those reports yet?"

Making her way around his desk, stopping beside him to lay a hand on the back of his chair, Matsumoto smiled innocently. He tensed and wondered if he leaned back, would her hand come in contact with his shoulder? Gritting his teeth, he tried to concentrate on his paperwork.

"No, not yet Matsumoto," he replied, voice strained and tight. He heard her whine in protest, seeing out of the corner of his eye how she leaned down. Still, he got startled as her hot breath warmed the skin of his ear.

"But it's Saturday," she whispered, "why can't you get off a bit earlier Captain?"

He shivered; memories of her mouth elsewhere, her voice saying something else, flashing through his mind. The strain in his pants made him groan in annoyance, wondering when he could get away from his lieutenant discreetly enough to take care of…it.

"Matsumoto, these reports needs to be---"

"---shoved up someone's ass. C'mon now Captain! I'll give you a treat if you come along, okay? I promise it'll be something good!"

He slowly puts the papers he's been reading back on the desk's surface, reaching his hands up to massage his temples while sighing. The throbbing in his crotch had not stopped.

"Define 'good' Matsumoto," he growled. The light giggle makes him shiver once again, her breath almost tickling against his skin.

"If you 'break' the dare tonight, I won't tell," she murmured, lips  _almost_  touching his ear. A second passed as his eyes widened and his mouth became strangely dry; the bulge in his pants hardening in anticipation. She breathed in, making a contemplating noise as he wasn't able to answer.

"Okay then," she said, "I'll withdraw the dare. How's that, Captain?"

It took him about half a second to understand what she was saying. His sharp brows rose, lips pulling up to show white, pearly teeth in a devilish smirk.

"Are you sure Matsumoto?" he began, slowly turning his head to stare into a pair of blue, piercing eyes; darkened by an emotion mirrored in teal. Their noses were touching, the dare already lost before they could agree on a conclusion. He didn't care at the moment – her breath was hot against his lips and they itched to kiss it away; swallow it.

"Yes," she whispered with a grin, mouth moving against his teasingly. He felt light-headed, and a childish feeling of smug glee spread through his body; mixing with the excitement.

"And why is that?" he asked, kissing her softly; briefly. Her position was uncomfortable, leaning down beside him. Slinking between him and the desk, she settled herself in his lap; her legs dangling over the hard arm rest and arms locked securely around his neck. He had to title his head upwards – but just a bit – to see her face instead of cleavage. She smiled softly, bending down to place light kisses on his mouth, nose, cheek and forehead. His fingers played with her hair, stroked her back and caressed any skin available. It was like he was feeding; filling his senses with something delicious, something addicting.

"I—figured—two—whole—weeks were—a bit too—much," she mumbled through gentle kisses, her own hands beginning to stray. He swiftly captured her lips for good this time around, parting them with his tongue and tasting sweetness he'd been afraid of forgetting. Almost a full week, no, only a few days had been enough to make him aware of the importance of her presence; her touch, her taste, smell, sound and warmth.

A fleeting moment of immaturity, a quick wish easily dismissed – he wondered if he ever got the chance to play again, and dare her to satisfy his cravings to the fullest. Was it even possible? Drowning in her moans, her skin's heat and the dampness of her lips and eagerness of her hips – he found no time to dwell on it. He wanted more.


	44. A Lieutenant's Musings

There was something she had always wondered about, something that always had her distracted on those long working hours where she could but stare – and wonder.

He was so young; so small and fresh in his strength and ways. He was a new breeze in the high ranks, an exciting change and pleasant puzzle – impossible to dislike and hard to take seriously when icy beautiful teal eyes glared from their position in such a cute face. He was no image of an old cranky man; of a cynical fellow whose years were wasted.

So why the white hair?

She had a hard time imagining that it was real, and besides, it was really fun to play with the possibility of her Captain  _bleaching_  his hair.

Obviously, she had asked him many times if it were, in fact, real. She always got the same answer;  _yes._  But she didn't see the point in believing him. The arguments, the pondering and wild fantasizing consumed time better than the plain old staring-blankly-in-front-of-you while "doing" paperwork. Quite naturally, this annoyed her cute little Captain to no end. Which made it even better.

Then he had to go and prove it; destroying her rather pleasantly time-consuming theories.

Pouting, she followed her Captain out of the bathroom. He hadn't even let her take a good enough look! Really, going and destroying her faith and not even offer something in return?

 _Oh well, I have something else to think about now_ , she mused as she walked up beside him; grinning and very pleased with his brilliant blush. She supposed she ought to be happier, since two of her questions with the highest priorities had been answered. But happy was a too nice word to use, especially after finding out her Captain was probably pretty well endowed. But, as it were, he didn't give her a chance to take a proper look.

So, how well endowed was he?

Slightly miffed and very –  _very_  – embarrassed, Hitsugaya Toshiro wondered  _why_  his lieutenant  _still_  spaced out during work. He had proved the nature of his hair colour, hadn't he?


	45. Wonder Weapon

He couldn't bring himself to believe this yet; still groggy from sleep and very much in denial. He wasn't in his lieutenant's room, just out of her futon and leaving his warmth on her blanket with _her_  scent. No.

And his clothes were defiantly not gone; of course not.

The black leather pants lying before him was just a mirage; the light playing tricks on his eyes and brain. They were not real. He had other things to wear, surely. Kimonos and cute, female things didn't take up every space of the wardrobe.

Because surely, this couldn't be happening?

Matsumoto's uncontrollable giggles from the futon crushed his hopes till they were but a grain of dust in a corner somewhere. Looking over to the tight, black leather pants he wondered how many times he could kill his lieutenant in his mind before going insane. Growling, he slowly made his way towards the offending clothing. Was she so desperate to see him in them?

As he bent down to retrieve them, he looked over to a very naked blonde occupying the futon. She had rolled over, blankets slipping off her form, to closer observe her victim. Her eyes were half-closed, blue slightly darker, and her full lips were pulled up in a smile as her brows rose suggestively. It was a very inviting image, but he had to look away in fear the pants would become  _impossibly_  tight. He  _had_  to get to his rooms, and he didn't want to do it naked. He'd rather put those pants on.

Which he did, and away went the hope of returning to his rooms this morning. He made a mental note to use this way of clothing whenever Matsumoto gave him the "cold" treatment (a.k.a no sex, or even touching) because, he noted while gasping, it worked wonders.


	46. Reflecting's (aka Surrender's) go at Shinigami's Cup – Golden!

Rukia was very pleased with herself. She entered the room with a secret smile, catching all the females' eyes as she sat down looking smug. This time, she was sure Yachiru would choose  _her_  as the Vice President of the Shinigami Women's Association. Her contribution to this month's Hottest Couple was  _the best;_  surely no one could outdo her this time? She reluctantly admitted that last month hadn't gone that well, with the theme Nurse and Patient (the couple being Unohana and Ukitake), but that was another story. She was well prepared now, and with her brilliance, it was a sure shot. Nothing could go wrong.

"Okay, now that everyone is here…." Nanao began, standing in the front as usual. She trailed off as a pink head popped up and sent hearts flying with her wide smile.

"LET'S OPEN THE MEETING!" Yachiru exclaimed happily, waving her hands over head and grinning. The small crowd of women smiled, giggled and nodded in agreement; obviously excited.

Clearing her throat, Nanao began.

"So, this month's couple – as you all now – is the Captain of the 10th division," cheers were heard along with a wolf whistle at the mention of the little white-haired officer, to which she took little notice, "and our honoured member lieutenant Matsumoto Rangiku."

More cheers as a beautiful blonde waved lazily, grinning and winking suggestively. Pushing her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, Nanao continued.

"As per usual, we have you each bring a contribution to the couple showing us  _why_ it was chosen as the hottest couple this month. I will now allow you to present what you've come up with, in order, starting with…the President."

Yachiru giggled happily, jumping up on the table and looking out over the gathering. Smiling, she whipped out a blurry photo. It took a while for the observers to see what the motif was supposed to be, but in the end, they did.

"It's Big Boobies and Whitey! I managed to take a picture of them playing!"

Had it been anyone else uttering that sentence, it would've made a grave difference. Luckily, the girl was a bit too innocent (hard as it may seem) to understand that you weren't really half-naked when playing. Not in the term she meant, anyway; her knowledge only went as far as to kissing.

Nanao snatched the picture away, cheeks burning, and coughed while trying to regain her posture. Matsumoto sat blinking innocently, either unaware or simply enjoying the Vice President's modesty-problems.

"Thank you, President. Moving on…Rukia, how about you?" The hope in her otherwise serious voice almost made Rukia feel a bit guilty, but the position as Vice President was so close…so tempting.

"My contribution for this year's Couple is--" she paused for effect, and for stalling time to take out her nicely decorated folder, "--a manga! Following the theme Boss and Subordinate, of course. And I kept in mind to use the office, too!"

The struggle to keep Yachiru away from an X-rated, badly drawn manga was lost to Nanao before it even began. She watched in horror as the young bubblegum girl flipped the pages open. For once, she was glad Rukia's drawing skills equals minus ten.

"Hey, it's almost like my picture! Do you want to be Vice President?"


	47. Captain's Ice Cream

It was one of those really, really, really hot days. When you could see the heat burn the ground, when the birds where quiet and the crickets played in the background. Toshiro was trying to figure out what he had done to be off duty with his Lieutenant today of all days. She would always drag him outside, claiming the sun was good for him. And today was like any other day back in Soul Society. Being in the living world hadn't done anything to his luck. Except for, perhaps, making it worse.

Sighing, the white haired Captain lay back in the grass and stared up at the blue sky. No clouds. He was on a hill, in his Shinigami form since it was less hot compared to a gigai, and doing his best to ignore the pleased sighs coming from his left. Matsumoto was enjoying an ice cream. Really  _enjoying_  it. Toshiro growled and turned his gaze to the woman beside him, biting his tongue to keep silent and holding his breath. Slow lick, up and down, around her lips – swirling, sucking, sighing.

"Hey, Matsumoto," he called in a strained voice, making her look down and smile; forgetting the ice cream. She had a rather nice view, but it could be better. She eyed his covered chest and wondered how he could wear his uniform so properly in such heat. It didn't matter that a shadow fell over them; the lonely tree behind them not big enough to throw a decent one. His skin was slightly sweaty, and his brows furrowed in a frown. He looked incredibly stiff too; not relaxed at all. Matsumoto frowned. It was their day off; she had offered to buy him ice cream (for his money, but it was still something…) and even taken him to this place – a deserted hill with a beautiful view and soft, green grass. Perhaps she had to do something more. Grinning, she leaned over and swiftly undid his uniform; revealing a nicely built chest. Instantly, his hands closed around her free one; pulling it out of the way. She lost some of her balance, and the forgotten ice cream was remembered.

"MATSUMOTO!!" Toshiro yelled; shocked at the sudden cold sensation on his lower stomach, not to mention in the speed which she'd parted his robes. She started to giggle; lying down to ease the pressure put on her elbow keeping her up. Half of the ice cream was still safe in her hand, but the other half was melting quickly and dripping down his stomach and hips. He growled and was glad no one was around; that way they wouldn't notice the sudden drop in the temperature.

"Oh Captain," she moaned, rolling over to lie half over his chest and stare down into his wide eyes. "Why didn't I think of this?"

He swallowed; feeling uneasy. The temperature didn't rise, though he was sure he was feeling warmer than before – if possible. "Think of what?"

"That if I annoy you, the temperature drops," she said with a smirk; the ice cream in her hand dangerously close to his naked chest. He opened his mouth to protest but the cold substance made him choke on a moan as it made contact with his skin. He hoped she wouldn't realize annoyance wasn't the only thing that made the temperature around him sink, but the bulge in his loose pants would be a dead give-away if her attention was drawn somewhere else than his pink cheeks.

"Stop it Matsumoto!" he growled, trying to get up. Unfortunately, she was a rather strong woman worthy of the title Lieutenant. But he was her Captain. Almost free, Toshiro froze in horror as she rolled over him completely to straddle his hips and pin down his shoulders. Staring into her eyes, his cheeks turned dark pink and a soft, cold breeze blew past. She raised a brow, knowing very well what the hardness against her was.

"Captain," she began with a pout; eyes gleaming with mischief. "You should've told me!"

"Matsumoto, st—" He was unable to finish as she leaned down to kiss his dry lips. Her tongue darted out to trace them, before moving past and tasting his mouth. He closed his eyes and mimicked her movements; feeling as a knot tightened in his lower stomach and sent shivers up his spine.

She broke away from the kiss before he could honestly say he was satisfied, and teasingly places light kisses down his neck. Moaning, his hands came up to rest on her hips. As she moved lower, his hands moved higher. She licked at ice cream on his chest, removing the sticky substance and replacing it with a wet trail of saliva that cooled his skin pleasantly. He watched her – breathing hard – and slowly moved his thumbs in circles; caressing the underside of her breasts. She moved lower still, kissing his ribs and nuzzling his stomach. He felt his back curl – arch up just a bit – as she removed the last part of his robes to let her lips hover over the newly exposed skin. His hands had gripped her pink scarf, and his hold of it tightened as she moved up a few inches to lick his stomach clean from the remaining ice cream. It was very pleasant, her warm tongue and soft kisses, but the ache between his legs was almost unbearable. It didn't help that the now chilled air around them blew between them and stung his hot skin in a way that made his hips eager to move.

Smiling against him, Matsumoto moved down again. She enjoyed the cool air around them, but she still felt incredibly hot. It was for other reasons, but it didn't stop her from shiver in pleasure each time he reacted to her ministrations and a sudden chill would consume her for less than a second. Tired of her own teasing, she eagerly made her way down his body. He tasted of vanilla ice cream, but as she came lower the salty taste of his skin was the only thing left. A jolt of cold shook her body as she kissed his tip; making her gasp and moan in pleasure. She absently wondered why she paid for ice cream when she could have it for free. Nothing chilled, tasted or felt better than her Captain on days like these.


	48. Love Me Tender

He walked down the empty corridor, teal eyes glowing in the thick darkness. His steps were careful; he could barely see more than a few feet before him. Not even the moon was out tonight, and the divisions around here had either gone home or away to the pubs ages ago. No light came from the closed windows as he passed. He knew the ways around all the offices and barracks, he could see the corridor lit and filled with life in his mind. He could go from one place to another blindfolded and without any help get there for sure. But now he didn't know where he was going, he had no idea where his goal was. The only thing guiding him was the spirit energy of his Lieutenant.

Stopping to sniff the air, he frowned. Blinking, he tried to focus ahead. His breaths slowed till they almost died out. Her energy was fading, had he turned the wrong way? Turning around, he went back to the closest crossway and stood silently in the middle. Closing his eyes, he breathed in heavily. A flowery scent caress his senses. He thought of nothing, and felt a warm presence of energy close around his heart and lungs. Opening his eyes, he focused once again on the darkness ahead. Slowly, a trail of blue energy appeared down the corridor to his left. He had taken the wrong turn.

Picking up his pace again, he frowned. He didn't know what it was about her, but somehow her energy was more visible than others'. He could sense it, smell it and  _see_ it. If she was close enough, he could even taste it. This made it easy for him to find her, to always know where she was, but sometimes he thought it causes more trouble than it should be. Depending on her mood, the strength of her energy's presence changed and he had yet to identify which were what. If it was weak, was she sad? If it were strong, was she angry? Hurt? Happy? He could never tell, and her face gave nothing away. But it wasn't just that which worried him. The presence of her spiritual energy was always there, he had grown so accustomed to it he feared what would happen if it disappear some day. It would be a part of him to disappear, and he wondered if he could live without it.

"Matsumoto?" he called, the smell and pressure of her energy suddenly overwhelming. Either she was close by, or something had happened. His heart skipped a beat and his pace quickened. The pressure didn't cease, and as he rounded the corner he saw a flash of pale blue. She was there. Letting out a breath, he slowed down until he came to a stop. It was dark, but the glow of her energy was enough for him to see a weak outline tracing her curvy body. He guessed she was leaning against a wall, eyes closed again after confirming it was him.

"What are you doing here Matsumoto?" he asked, walking over to her and placing a hand on the wall beside her. This close, he could finally make out her face. Her eyes fluttered open and stared down into his; revealing something that made him frown. She looked dazed; unaware of the world around them. He couldn't read any specific emotion, and couldn't determine if she was sad or hurt. It irked him; he had yet to catch her mourning over the loss of close friends after he'd found her to let Kira apologise. She had to hurt too, right? She had to cry, had to break, no? He sighed, wondering why he wanted to see her that way so badly he followed her around whenever anything indicated a sad mood. It was wrong, but he yearned to give her comfort; to make her smile through tears. He needed to know what he meant to her, what he could do for her.

"Captain," she began; breaking the silence. Her hand sneaked up to capture his free one; bringing it to her lips before continuing. "Why are you doing this?"

He shivered, her lips touching his skin as they moved. He couldn't find himself to answer just yet; her light kisses on his fingers and palm distracted him from reality. She had touched him before, hugged him and kissed his cheeks or nose; even teased him in an improperly seductive way. But this time, it was different. The air held electricity; he could almost sense it crack and burn between them. Her teeth scraped his wrist; her tongue traced his veins. He leaned closer, nose nuzzling her neck and breathing in the scent of her skin and spiritual energy. They smelled the same, yet very different. Her energy was pure and easy to categorize, while her skin held a diffuse and seductive scent that was impossible to name. It was the same with her eyes. They were as blue as her energy, yet grey and cloudy. Was everything else the same?

"Captain," she said again, her voice almost in a whisper. "You didn't answer my question."

He closed his eyes and breathed in her scent once more before answering. "I worry," he said. He was afraid to tell her everything, to let her know exactly  _why_. But this seemed to be enough, since she relaxed and continued to kiss his hand. He wondered what he tasted like to her, how different her skin's taste would be compared to her energy's. Sighing, he gave in and pressed himself closer to her body; finally tasting her soft skin with a quick lick of his tongue. She gasped in surprise, and he was about to back away when it turned into a pleased noise at the back of her throat. She brought his hand down, placing it on her breast. His eyes flew open as he froze; staring into strawberry-blonde locks. What was she doing?

"Captain," she began yet again, breathing it out as if in pain. He pressed himself closer – feeding on the warmth – and gently kissed her neck. She shivered and returned his pressure; turning her head to expose her neck further. He continued to kiss, lick and taste; trying to define the different tastes pleasing his tongue. Salt? Sour and sweet? Almost like cherry, but more like vanilla. It was creamy; soft and smooth. He moved down to her shoulder, hands still placed either on the wall or her breast. Licking the skin right underneath the edge of the fabric, he raised his one hand from the wall to tug gently at her uniform. It fell open, just a bit, and gave him more access; more skin to taste. He couldn't get enough, he didn't care that it was wrong.

"Do you know what you're doing?" she asked, making him stop. He slowly looked up, not expecting the gentle smile on her lips nor the sad look in her eyes. What was she thinking? Her spiritual pressure lay heavy against him, but he couldn't understand it. Perhaps she was afraid? Unsure of his actions?

"Yes," he answered, moving up to capture her lips in a kiss. He hoped he was right, or this would prove to be very embarrassing. "It's what you do before making love, isn't it?"

She giggled, leaning in to kiss his nose briefly. He took this as a good sign, and titled his head to the side to whisper in her ear.

"And if I'm right," he began, feeling intoxicated by her and her kisses, smell and scent, "you're supposed to be…affected."

"Ah!" she gasped, arching her back and pushing close against him. His hand had strayed down her side and between their bodies; cupping the soft, hot junction of her legs. She spread them wider – inviting him – and slid down the wall despite being pinned against it. His breath caught; cheeks the lightest of pink and mind screaming at him for being so bold. He didn't know what possessed him, but he was unable to stop. He pressed his hand closer, enjoying her soft gasps and moans, and started to caress her breast as well. Her robes fell further apart; parting completely as his hand snuck beneath the fabric to touch her naked skin. He found her nipple and pinched it; biting his lip to suppress a groan. She was too hot – too tempting – for her own good.

"Oh Captain I can't take it anymore," she suddenly groaned, pushing him off her with force. He stumbled backwards, shocked, and could do nothing as she brought him down on the floor. He winced, the fall not kind to his back, but couldn't get a word out as she straddled him. Leaning over him, she looked like a cat about to attack. Her eyes shone in the dark, a hungry but controlled shade of blue eating at his sight. The darkness around them made her stand out even more; he couldn't see anything but her and her alone. It made him eager to explore; to taste skin yet to touch his tongue and feel her hands on places yet to be caressed.

"Let's be gentle," she whispered; catching him off guard, "I'm tired of love that hurts."

He nodded, an understanding smile on his lips, and made sure to show her how soft his touch could be. Even though she later begged him to stop taking everything so literally.


	49. Tattoos (Tattoos part 1)

Matsumoto Rangiku was a tease. And not only that, but she was a merciless bully too. Several of the people in his group of Shinigamis ordered to the living world agreed. It seemed like she was choosing a random person to harass each week; but sadly, he himself was the main target 24/7. Though when she decided it was someone else's turn, he would make the best of it and either flee or spy on the victim. The latter the most enjoyable one, and something he was currently occupied with.

This week, it was Renji that was followed around by a big breasted devil. She was bored and had chosen the most explosive of the group; deciding that Ikkaku had had too much training in keeping his temper to be fun after meeting that weird human girl. The white-haired Captain snorted as he watched Abarai grit his teeth in annoyance; Matsumoto had been one step behind him for over 40 minutes.

"DAMMIT WOMAN WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!?" he finally yelled, spinning around to face an innocent looking Lieutenant of the 10th division.

"Oh, I was just wondering…do those tattoos mean anything?" she asked, titling her head and pointing at his head. "Like 'if you've screwed a noble, put this on your forehead'?"

Hitsugaya bit his lip and waited. The redhead's face soon matched his hair, and he seemed to try very hard to keep from drawing his zanpaktou. Unfortunately, he seemed to be able to keep from using physical violence. The Captain sighed, disappointed. It would be fun to see who would win; enraged Abarai or bored Matsumoto?

"Matsumoto, have you forgotten about the tattoo on your hip?" Renji growled. "Doesn't that also hold an interesting meaning? I wonder what your Captain would say if he ever found out."

Her blush made the observer curious. Did Matsumoto have a tattoo? On her hip? And why the hell did Abarai know of this? As he watched the two arguing figures walk away, Hitsugaya Toshiro made sure to find out exactly what his Lieutenant was hiding.


	50. No Worries

Matsumoto cursed under her breath as she kneeled on the floor, bending down to look underneath the bookshelf. There, in the furthest corner, spun her pink cell phone slowly until it came to a stop.  _Typical,_  she thought as she reached in under the heavy piece of furniture, fingertips barely brushing against the electronic device. She'd dropped it several times before, the sound of a message being received never failing to startle her, but this time the phone decided it wanted to stay in one place when used or not be used at all.

Back curled, cheek pressed against the cold floor and skirt hiking up uncomfortably high on her bum, Matsumoto bit her lower lip in concentration. She needed to read whatever message she'd received; it might be something incredibly important. Like suspicious hollows appearances or even arrancars. If she missed something like that, her Captain sure would be mad. But the phone hadn't moved an inch in the right direction; only slightly further away. Taking a deep breath, glaring and almost willing the thing to move, Matsumoto pushed her arm as far as it would go into the small space and gave a squeal of excitement when she managed to spin the phone around. She didn't notice the door open, or the familiar whisper of repressed spiritual energy, being too engrossed in her efforts of retrieving the pink object.

This, for the intruder, could only be positive considering the inner battle he was currently having. Hitsugaya Toshiro, Captain and renowned prodigy, was seconds away from snapping and running over to the woman positioned so temptingly before him. He'd been looking everywhere for her, even sent a message through the emergency-only phone, but this wasn't something he'd expected to find.

On all fours and skirt revealing white panties, while apparently pretty determined to get something underneath the huge bookshelf along the back wall of the classroom, she looked incredibly inviting. Slowly, his hand on the doorknob tightened its grip and closed the door soundlessly; fingers itching to close the lock.

The reason as to why he'd been looking for her was pretty simple; he'd spent two whole days locked away with paperwork and several cups of tea. Not only did it tire his mind and made him irritable, but the lack of _satisfying_  physical contact was maddening. Her suffocating hugs when she came to refill his cup or force him to eat wasn't what he missed, but the soft brush of lips against his, and the feel of warm hands slipping underneath layers of clothes….it felt like ages ago.

The lock clicked but Matsumoto remained oblivious to her Captain's presence, finally making progress and almost succeeding in closing her fingers around the cell phone long enough to drag it closer. The position she was in was very uncomfortable; her back straining as she curved it to an extreme and twisted her waist in order to fully take advantage of the little space she could use in order to reach her phone. The skin of her bare knees felt raw after spending such long time on the hard floor and her arms was all tingly at the lack of blood flow. It was with a satisfied groan her hand finally closed around the phone, and she licked her dry lips as she pulled it out and started to rise.

"Stay," a soft, familiar voice breathed in her ear; making her gasp in surprise. Still on her knees, resting on her elbows and lower arms, Matsumoto found herself frozen in wonder.  _Since when did he…?_  Her mind went practically blank as she felt him press against her; his position behind her as clearly suggestive as the movements of his hands as they caressed her stomach through the white shirt.

"Keep quiet," he continued, further away this time; the feel of soft lips gracing the middle of her back indicating where his head was. She didn't really see a reason to disobey, and nibbled her lip in anticipation. Last time he was like this was after a row they'd had, and she hadn't been disappointed. Actually, it seemed like he was bolder when driven by the need to make amends or relieve his stress. The latter probably being the cause this time. After all, he had been working quite hard these past few days.

"Cap—", she began as his hand snuck up underneath her skirt, but the sudden thrust of his hips against her replaced the words with a moan. She could feel the hard, warm bulge against her ass and his hands cupping her just served to tighten the knot of nerves in her lower stomach even more.

His breathing was heavy, heartbeat strong and fast against her back as he slid past the white fabric of her panties. He stood on his knees between her slightly spread legs, leaning over her body and nuzzling his nose between her shoulder blades; reaching around her with his free hand to pull her body closer still. His clothed member was throbbing and longing for release; the feel of her soft bum pressed against him driving him insane.

"Aaahh," she breathed as his fingers found her clit, the bundle of nerves almost burning as he caressed and pinched; having studied her body quite thoroughly in the past. She lowered her head till her forehead touched the floor and groaned; he was making her dizzy and she was already wetting his smooth fingers with her rising arousal.

"Rangiku," he murmured, removing his fingers from her as she trembled in her first orgasm; panting and spreading her legs wide. He brought them to his mouth and sucked them clean; closing his eyes briefly as the taste of her caressed his tongue. He felt high on lust and couldn't help but smirk at the trapped woman underneath him. If only she knew how easily she could turn him on, if only she knew how easily he could become a slave for her touch.

Licking his lips, he savored the taste that still lingered, and started to unbutton her shirt with his now free hands. A deep growl emitted from his throat as she moved her hips and rubbed her ass against him; urging him on. She raised her head and glanced slyly over her shoulder to meet his blazing eyes; raising a brow at his smirk before her eyes widened in surprise. He'd ripped off the last part of her shirt, and was already slipping his fingers underneath the edge of her panties. She didn't get time to object as he ripped them apart, exposing her wet sex to cold air before his clothed crotch started grinding; causing friction that sent shivers down her curved spine.

"What brought this on?" she asked in a husky voice, smiling as she heard the sound of a zipper opening. Not long after his pants found themselves by his knees and Matsumoto had to brace herself as he slammed into her; resting his forehead between her shoulder blades. She moaned and let her head drop to the floor again, waiting for him to move.

"I missed you," he breathed against the fabric of her shirt, "that's all."

She gasped in delight as he started to thrust into her in a rough, fast pace that forced her to bit her lip hard in order to not scream out. He didn't make it easier for her as his hand found her clit again; rubbing and keeping her pleasure equal to his.

The muscles of her stomach constricted as waves of excitement hit her; indescribable sensations playing with her body till she could but gasp and whimper in a need for more. The white-haired Captain didn't hold back, he gave what he could in order to feed on her beauty and warmth; the feeling of her walls around him and the tantalizing noises escaping her full lips making his head spin till thoughts were lost to the raw act of love, of burning lust and desire.

The climax, the quick visit in heaven, came not too soon and not too late. Time was irrelevant; he could only enjoy the present and the woman moaning his name. He slumped over her, burying his head in her back as he breathed in long, calming breath. Her flowery scent, thick and puzzling, soothed his rapid heartbeats and filled his lungs.

She collapsed on the floor, spreading her arms wide and stretching as he lay on top. Wincing, she nudged him with her elbow; breasts aching as they were pressed against the hard floor. He slowly rolled off, not bothering with their state of clothing and choosing to just lie on his side and gaze into her softly smiling face.

"Well, that was…different," she said, grinning at the frown forming. He suppressed a blush, the sight of her as she moved to mirror his pose enough to arouse him yet again.

"You do realize Captain, that we're in a High School classroom?" she continued. He stared blankly at her, preoccupied with the way her lips looked annoyingly unkissed.

"Captain? Shouldn't you worry about someone walking in on us?" She frowned, reaching out to poke him in his stomach. He just grabbed her hand and smirked.

"Don't worry Matsumoto; I locked the door. With kidou."


	51. Disobedient

The fight had been almost equal, but she had made it. She was stronger and had managed to get away alive, although barely that. The Arrancars were hard to beat, hard to get to – with their hearts gone. They followed orders merely because their master was more powerful, and would fight to the death no matter what. They had to prove their strength and slay those whose work was to eliminate them. She would fight till the death too, would prove her strength and follow orders. But, unlike them, she had someone she wouldn't allow to die. She couldn't. They were heartless, cold; but she…she loved him with a passion strong enough to do anything. _Anything._

And now here she was, stuck in a bed with crisp white sheets and a pissed Captain as company.  _Well,_  she mused,  _at least he can't come over here to whack my head._  But he really needed to calm down. It was freezing!

"Captain! You really should be more grateful!" she exclaimed after a few more moments of dead silence. His eyebrow twitched as his lips pursed and his hands clenched the sheets covering his body, but not a sound came as reply.

"You know, that Arrancar was about to attack you from the behind! I had to get up, otherwise, who knows what would've happened?" she whined when she realized he wasn't going to talk to her just yet. It amazed her how childish he could be at times like these.

"You were already half-dead from your own fight, and I told you loud and clear to stay out of the way and wait for the 4th division!" he hissed, barely restraining his anger as his knuckles turned white from his tight grip. Rangiku sighed; smiling slightly. True, she had disobeyed his direct orders but in the heat of battle and rage he hadn't been able to pay attention to his surroundings. There hadn't been a choice; she'd just had to block the sharp spike aiming for his back. It was hers to protect, was it not? Though it had made him very, very,  _very_ angry at her, she couldn't help but smile at his obvious worry. The way he sulked and expressed his displeasure was adorable to the point she didn't feel like defending her actions. It wasn't really necessary either; he probably knew her reason, which made it all the more interesting.

"I'm sorry I disobeyed your orders Captain, please punish me as you see fit," she drawled with a wink, giggling as he blushed and looked away; arms crossed over his bandaged chest. He snorted and stayed silent, making her roll her eyes. Was it really that bad?  _His foul mood is depressing,_  she thought with a pout.

"Hey, Captain," she called as she sat up straighter and carefully swung her sore legs over the bedside. "Let's sneak off and have some fresh air, no?"

His head turned and his eyes landed on her in time to see her rise from her bed with shaky legs and a big, silly smile playing across her lips. Something within him snapped and he found himself shivering at the sudden drop in the temperature.

"MATSUMOTO!" he snapped, making her fall back on the bed with an 'ouff'; startled by the sudden outburst. She winced; lying sprawled over the bed with her elbows as support, and stared at him with puzzlement. " **Stay.** "

His deep growl made her rise a brow as his flaming eyes seemed to make her unable to speak. A few moments passed soundlessly as he sat glaring at her, receiving a blank look in return. Finally, she broke the tense silence with a dry smile.

" _Voff_ , Captain."


	52. Important Lists

During the many years of friendship and as colleagues, Hitsugaya Toshiro had learned a lot about things he hadn't thought were important at all. But Matsumoto had taught him that however small something may seem, it could actually be quite big (of which he had learned in many different ways, some more pleasant than others). For one, you never  _ever_  refused Matsumoto Rangiku sake. That had been a quite painful experience, although not in the physical way (he'd gone out of his way to avoid getting his lieutenant depressed after that). As time went by, his patience for her vanity ceased to exist completely and after that he carefully noted in his book to let her sneak off to buy whatever she needed at least once a month without complaining. It was well worth it.

Also, never underestimate the intelligence of a drunk blonde. He still couldn't enter the eastern storeroom of his division without carefully looking over his shoulder and making sure he had the key.

And you know how they tell you to never mention a woman's age? Toshiro was full of sympathy for those who make the mistake of not addressing Matsumoto properly.

"Aw, I'm getting old," Matsumoto had whined as she'd gotten up from a long day on the office's couch. Toshiro remembered the annoyance he'd felt back then as if it was just a few minutes ago (the couch was still warm at the moment, and he was once again wondering how she managed to sneak off).

"You got old a few hundred years ago, Matsumoto," turned out to be his one-way ticket to hell for over a month. Never had he thought someone underneath his rank could make his life so difficult.

He grimaced at the memory and leaned back in his chair; eying the papers before him. The list of things Not-To-Do was long, very long, and he had started to believe the list of things To-Do would be easier to follow. But it turned out to be quite difficult to get a hold of that knowledge. Staring down at the paper before him, he frowned.

"Thank her for the tea (when it's late, smile), allow her to sleep for at least one hour on the couch, buy her souvenirs when visiting the living world (preferably chocolate), pretend not to notice when she's drunk and sneaks up from behind to hug me," he read out a loud, muttering under his breath as he tapped the brush against the desk's surface. His cheeks were pink at this point and he silently asked himself once again  _why_  he was doing this.

Sighing, he didn't even bother to answer the question yet again.

"Captain!" a jolly voice called as the door swung open to reveal a smiling blonde with a large basket of fruits resting on her one hip. "I've brought some snacks!"

As she entered and walked towards his desk, he refreshed his grip of the brush and swiftly scribbled down another small paragraph.

"Here," she said, having put down the basket and fished up a red apple; shoving it into his mouth and holding it still as he took a bite. She smiled as he chewed the too large piece, reaching out and brushing away a drop of juice from the corner of his mouth before he beat her to it.

"I couldn't find any watermelon, but you need to taste some other stuff from time to time, no?" she said with a laugh, paying no mind to his light blush.

"Hn," he replied with a smirk, leaning forward to take another bite from the apple in her hand. With that, the newest addition to his list was proven a success. Her smile was warm and her blue eyes sparkled in the light coming through the windows. As she started talking about the great effort she'd made to get a hold of these fruits he wondered what more to add. Perhaps what he had in mind should be on the Not-To-Do list, but the fruit juice on her lips seemed delicious…


	53. Good Morning, Honey

Morning – the time of the day which she used to loathe, when she woke up to face the consequences of too much sake. Be it an empty bed or a shared, she never found it pleasant. But nowadays, it was different. She blinked a few times, clearing her blurry vision, and rested her icy eyes on the face before her. Teal eye were hidden, an otherwise frowning mouth was relaxed and pulled up in a soft, peaceful smile. His hair was tangled, the spikes no longer harsh but falling in a soft mess around his head. She reached up to run a hand through the smooth strands, amazed at how thick it was. He groaned and leaned into her touch, snuggling closer to her warmth. She giggled and placed a light kiss on his nose, caressing his cheek as it wrinkled in distaste. He didn't like it when she placed such light kisses on his skin. Why, she didn't know but it his reactions were adorable.

"Mm," he mumbled; sighing as her hand went down from his cheek to his arm, tracing his muscles and skin. She loved waking up to this; there was nothing better than to take full advantage of his sleeping figure. If she was lucky, she could steer the way his dreams went and more than once she'd given him the wake-up call other men could only imagine her doing.

"Toshiro," she moaned in his ear as she moved to lie across his chest. " _Toshiro_."

He groaned again, arms moving up to embrace her slim waist. She grinned as she sat up a bit, straddling his hips and finding a comfortable position before leaning down to lightly kiss his lips.

"I want you," she breathed out, noting how he shivered underneath her. Her tongue flicked out to lick the tip of his nose; making him wrinkle it again and causing a slight frown to disturb his blissful features. Grinding against his already semi-hard member, she debated on whether she should go all out of leave him to wake up unsatisfied. The latter always had interesting consequences. But as soon as her movements slowed and she was about to roll off, teal eyes snapped.

"Wha—" she gasped, startled as he pushed her to the side and pinned her down easily; a smug grin on his lips as he pressed his arousal against hers. Biting her lip, she tried to regain her posture but it was lost when he leaned down to capture her mouth in a deep, literally breath-taking kiss. It was one of those that make her knees weak, but fortunately, she was already lying down.

"And what have I said about this, lieutenant Matsumoto?" he breathed in her ear after breaking the kiss, panting slightly. She licked her abused lips and tried to calm her heart down, slowly wrapping her legs around his hips and brining them closer. Her back arched and he moaned as slick folds were parted by a stiff shaft gliding through; pressing against a sensitive bundle of nerves.

"I believe you said that I have to suffer the consequences and not complain if I can't walk properly for the rest of the day?" she whispered in respond, voice husky and body quivering in impatience. He smirked before kissing her neck and making his way back to her lips.

Really, mornings were the best.

 


	54. Keys

This time around, they'd gotten themselves their own apartment. Toshiro had been reluctant to bother Inoue yet again, and surprisingly, Matsumoto only pointed out they would have to pay rent, rather than complaining. Of course, this could be for the simple reason that she would have him for herself during the time they spent in their cheap flat, but that didn't bother him too much. Apart from when he had real work to do and she wouldn't stop being gorgeous and annoyingly tempting. One may think that once you've tasted what you've longed for, you will find it easier to resist. Toshiro had painfully been proved wrong.

But today, things were going very smoothly. He had gotten up, kicked Matsumoto out of his bed as per usual, gotten dressed, eaten breakfast, fled the wet morning kisses of his lieutenant with success and dragged her ass to work. Patrolling the streets for hollows had proved to be a good occupation too, since it kept him on a safe distance from a rather disgruntled blonde. She never did like it when he refused to give in. But then again, it always came back to bite him at some point. But after a whole day without any incidents (apart from Matsumoto sneaking off to shop, and coming back in a very new, and very short, skirt), the thought had completely left his mind. And as he stood before the door to their flat, he was too busy wondering where his keys had gone anyway.

"Dammit! I'm sure I put them in my pocket," he mumbled as he rummaged his jean's, jacket's and shirt's pockets. A familiar spiritual presence made him sigh as he turned to ask Matsumoto for her copy of the key; giving up.

"Hey, Matsumoto," he greeted as she walked up to him, skirt swaying along with her hips. "Do you have a key?"

She giggled, making him frown. "Yeah, of course I have Captain. Where's yours?"

"I don't know," he grumbled while crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes betraying him as they glanced down to take in her long, slender legs. He quickly looked away when she started to move closer, making him blush slightly as she reached his stiff figure; leaning in to kiss his cheek.

"What if I say I do?" she mumbled against his skin, not moving an inch even when he reached up to grab her arms and push her away.

"Matsumoto, did you take my key?" he asked, voice harsh and loud as he struggled to not show how affected he was by her proximity. Glaring at her, he bit his tongue and waited for a reply.

"Yeah, I did," she answered with a grin, standing back a bit. "It's right here."

While she points at her, as always, well exposed cleavage his eyes can't help but he drawn to follow the silver chain falling down between the soft mounds. Frowning, he looks away with a growl.

"Stop playing around Matsumoto, just open the door," he said, making her smile slyly. He paused impatiently before continuing with annoyance straining his voice. "I won't fetch it, idiot."

"Aw, but Captain, I put it there  _just for you._ "

"Troublesome," he snapped, reaching out and grabbing the chain. She followed as he pulled at the silvery metal, nose brushing against his and body pressed a bit too close. He stayed still, taking out the key and removing it from the necklace with ease. Well, he mused, he didn't have any work waiting for him inside…

"You're hopeless," he sighed before claiming her lips, making her moan as he deepened it and pushed his tongue past full lips; tasting her sweet mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled herself closer still; titling her head to give him more access. He mentally smirked, gripping the key securely in his hand and moving to unlock the door. As he slowly turned the key, his knee went up between her legs to press against her clothed sex; easily distracting her from the click of the lock. Her breath hitched and she moaned low in her throat, unsuspecting. He turned down the door handle, swiftly pushing the door open and securing an arm around Matsumoto's waist to pull her with him as he turned. She gasped in surprise and broke the kiss to stare at his wide smirk. Pulling her with him, he entered their flat and closed the door behind them. Locking it, he turned to capture her lips once again.

"Don't steal my keys again," he said when they paused to catch their breath, making her giggle.

"I won't," she answered, winking. She would just steal something else next time.


	55. Christmas Present

He had always tolerated her behavior and silly ideas, even around Christmas. But this year, she truly did drive him beyond mad. It didn't help what he did; she always walked away with a smile. He'd tried to order her as her Captain, he'd tried to threaten her with paperwork, he's tried almost everything; yet no results. He couldn't get the stupid idea out of her head and it was more frustrating than all her hyper moods on at the same time. He swore she had horns and a tail whenever he glared her way, or tried to convince her she should just give it up.

Who the hell wears panties saying "do not open till Christmas" anyway?!


	56. It's Alright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sort of sequel to #51 "Disobedient".

In the end, she didn't leave the room. He had gotten worse somehow, probably because of a cold or something like that. Being as mad as he had, it was a miracle she hadn't gotten one too. He could be so stupid sometimes, but right now, she was wondering if maybe it was her fault. It was, after all, because of her he was angry. They said it was nothing serious, so he should be alright. But that didn't keep her from worrying. She had gotten up from her bed and made her way to his on shaky legs, pulling up a chair to sit by his bedside. It was late, nighttime, and he was sound asleep. He'd passed out earlier and she doubted he had any energy to open his eyes. Smiling, she sat watching him. Hours had passed, and she was long lost in a daze when footsteps down the hall outside called her attention. She frowned and looked over her shoulder, waiting. She recognized the spiritual energy, but couldn't place it. Her mind was tired and she had long left till she was healed. Apparently, she was worse off than her Captain at the moment. Well, at least she was conscious.

"Rangiku-san," a familiar voice whispered as the door opened to reveal a shadowed figure. She blinked a few times, her blurry vision focusing on the face of Hinamori Momo. Smiling lightly, Matsumoto was about to greet her when she suddenly ran over and flung her arms around her neck; hugging her close. Gasping in pain, Rangiku bit her tongue and slowly wrapped her arms around the fragile body before her.

"Is he going to be alright, Rangiku-san?" she asked with a sob, sounding frightened. Rangiku sighed and pulled her into her lap, careful to not stretch her wounds as the girl curled up in her embrace. So naïve, so stupid…so broken.

"Of course he is, Hinamori-chan," she assured her, stroking her head and smiling calmly. The girl looked up, eyes shimmering with tears, and nodded. Silently, Rangiku let her rest in her arms. She understood the girls feelings right now, understood her worry for the white-haired boy in the bed. She wanted to soothe it, to offer comfort in the way she herself would want it. She wished the warmth of Hinamori's body was calming, wished her grip of her was comforting. But the images of Toshiro fighting for her life and almost losing his own, if it wasn't for the shield her body had provided. Deep in her thoughts, she didn't notice teal eyes open. The silence was only broken by helpless sobs and heavy, pained breathing.

-

Toshiro stared at the two figures by his bed, too tired to make a move. He had heard her move to sit by his side hours ago, and been awake even when Momo barged in. He had heard her lights steps, sensed her spiritual energy approach, and noticed the pain in Matsumoto's gasp. The worry in Momo's voice, the soothing hum of Matsumoto's words, all clear in his fuzzy mind. His gaze took in the small body wrapped in strong but too thin arms, wondering why all he caused was worry. He really was Matsumoto's opposite.

Wasn't it his duty to comfort the crying girl in his lieutenant arms? Wasn't it his duty to protect the woman who almost died for him? She was looking so worn, so pained. Tiredly, he reached out to brush his pale fingers against Matsumoto's knee. She looked up in surprise and stared, before flashing him a warm smile. She didn't notify Momo of his awakening but merely moved her hand to rest over his.

"Our dear little Shiro-chan is pretty stupid, isn't he?" Matsumoto mumbled. He frowned but didn't possess the energy to tell her off.

"Why?" Momo asked, voice muffled against Matsumoto's shoulder. She smiled wider and didn't break eye contact with him as she considered her reply.

"He thinks too much," she began, pausing to fight down a wince as she giggled. "He doesn't realize we have our own choice. Contrary to his belief, he's not responsible for everything."

Whatever she had seen in his eyes, it seemed like it was enough to read his mind. He glared at her as Momo agreed with a silent "yes", wishing she would stop smiling so softly. Why did it seem like his presence was enough?

-

"You better go to bed now Hinamori-chan," Rangiku said, loosening her grip and helping the girl stand. She didn't notice her Shiro-chan's open eyes as she stared at the floor, wiping her eyes.

"Thank you, Rangiku-san," she whispered, blushing. Rangiku patted her head and grinned, feeling exhaustion numbing her muscles.

"Don't mention it; it's hard to see him like this for me too. But try not to worry too much, okay?"

"Okay. Good night Rangiku-san, and get well," she mumbled before leaving. Rangiku stared after her before looking back down at the pale face of her Captain.

"You shouldn't be awake Captain, you need sleep," she stated as she pulled up her knees to her chin and hugged them, biting her lip hard at the pain shooting through her body. He glared at her, his hand having fallen off her knee and breaking the contact.

"You…shouldn't..ei-ther," he managed to get out, voice hoarse and weak. She rolled her eyes but otherwise didn't move, observing him as he blinked tiredly.

"I'm glad," she said quietly after a few moments of silence, "I'm glad that you're going to be alright."

"Stupid," he mumbled, unable to put any strength in the words. "It's just…a cold. It'll…be over…in…a day. You shouldn't worry…idiot."

"Hn." Toshiro grinned at her half-hearted reply and turned his body to the side, once again reaching out to her to brush against her pale hand loosely gripping her shin. She shivered at the contact and took his hand in hers, squeezing gently.

"You shouldn't get angry like that Captain," she mumbled after a while, letting her legs slide down to place her feet on the cold floor; sleep ready to claim her. "Colds can be dangerous when you're wounded."

"You're worse…off than…me, Matsumoto." The scolding tone in his voice was lost to his sore throat, but either way, it didn't have any effect other than putting a crooked smile on her full lips. He watched quietly as her eyelids drooped low, closed and snapped open. She repeated this a few times before she fell forward and almost knocked the wind out of him; catching herself just in time by gripping the edge of the bed. He breathed a sigh of relief; her head inches from his stomach.

"Sorry," she whispered, trying to blink the sleep away from her eyes without much success. "I think I'll go to bed now."

"Wai---" he began, sighing as she stood and fell back down in the chair; legs too weak to carry the sudden weight put on them. She blinked in confusion, about to get up again, before he snatched out to grip her thin wrist and pull her towards him. She was light, and easy to steer despite his weakened state. Sprawled across his waist and chest, Toshiro fought down a blush and had to admit she would have to get into a comfortable position by herself.

"Sleep…here," he demanded softly as she looked up at him, surprised and puzzled.

"Is that really alright Captain?" He winced at her question, looking away in embarrassment at her raised brow and twinkling eyes. Of course it wasn't – what would people say when they found them in the morning?

"Yes…it's alright…Matsumoto," he said after a while, turning his head to stare into her eyes. She giggled softly as she moved up a bit and snuggled close; finding a comfortable position with her head resting in the crook of his neck and her hand on his chest. It didn't take long before she was asleep, breathing deep and even with her lips slightly parted. Toshiro smiled, blushing hotly as he enjoyed the warmth only she could provide. When they later were found in the morning, the scandalized reactions never happened as Toshiro had feared. It turned out to be, alright.


	57. Christmas Kiss

It was 'finally' Christmas, and the office of the 10th division was as prepared for the celebration as it could be. Well, in spirits anyway. The Captain had long since gotten rid of the jolly decorations that had covered the walls and windows, even hung down from the ceiling, and done his best to remain scowling and frowning during most of his time spent with his over-excited lieutenant.

But, at the moment, he was out on an errand while she was 'dutifully' – as she called it – occupying the couch and he could  _finally_  relax. Sighing, Hitsugaya Toshrio allowed himself a smile. It didn't help at all to add to her Christmas mood by accidently showing any sign of enjoyment; it only made it a thousand times worse. He had enough to deal with as it was, didn't he?

"Ah, I hope this year's Christmas party won't turn out like last year's!"

"Haha, yeah, you're right! You ended up making a big fool out of yourself, didn't you?"

"Gah shut up, will you?!"

He watched as a pair of young-looking shinigamis passed, snorting in amusement as he recalled the party they'd mentioned. His alcoholic lieutenant had been a handful; singing and dancing and breaking every naïve man's heart by hanging onto his arm like they were in a…relationship… _and then_ … refusing to let go… He hoped she wouldn't get as drunk this year too, but he knew it was in vain. He'd just have to stay out of the way this time, to avoid making people get the wrong idea.

Taking a few flash-steps, he soon arrived by the Captains' archives to pick up the last documents before the short holiday. It was of a pitiful size compared to what he was used to, but he really didn't mind. Contrary to his lieutenant's belief, he didn't enjoy paperwork he just had a sense of responsibility and he was mature enough to not complain about it. Unlike some.

"Ah, Toshiro-kun!" a voice called, making him stop on his way and turn around. Captain Ukitake greeted him with a big smile and friendly wave; walking over to the much shorter  _Shiro_ _-can_.

"I see you're almost done with all your work!" he stated as he came to a stop. "That's nice, no? Finally getting some time to relax!"

"Well not really," Toshiro drawled, a mental picture of Matsumoto Rangiku in full Christmas mood appearing uninvited. "I've still got a lot to deal with in the office before it's over.."

"Haha, you're right! Your dear lieutenant must be really excited! Is she taking you to the Christmas party tonight?"

"Ah! That's not really what I meant…" he mumbled in protest, blushing lightly. How did he know he was talking about her? Clearing his throat, he continued. "And yes, I guess I have no choice. You know how she gets…"

"Ahh, lovely Rangiku-chan," Ukitake agreed, nodding, "she can come up with some interesting things when in the right mood!"

" _Interesting,_  you say…"

"Well, I must be off or my 3rd seats will get a bit too worried! Say hello to Rangiku from me, and wish her a Merry Christmas, no?" Ukitake said with a smile, starting to walk away as he waved to his smaller colleague.

"You're right," Toshiro agreed, grinning. "And yes, I will. Merry Christmas, Captain Ukitake."

With a few flash-steps, he was right outside his office within seconds. How he loved this way of travelling; made his work go so much faster. Not that he minded it too much, but someti----

_"---Matsumoto?!"_

Having slid the door open, and walked into something soft and warm only to almost bounce back a step, Toshiro blinked and realized he'd just run into his lieutenant. She had gasped at the impact, although it wasn't that hard, and was struggling to regain her balance while he tried to figure out what she'd been doing standing on her tiptoes right behind the door…

"Oh, Captain! You're back!" she exclaimed with a nervous laugh; standing steady on her two feet by now. Toshiro raised a brow as he straightened out the slightly wrinkled papers in his hands, wondering why he had to deal with these strange occurrences every day.

"Well spotted," he said, sighing. "What were you doing just now, Matsumoto?"

"Oh, hehe…well…" More nervous laughing, a hand behind her head scratching…what was she hiding? Wait, she had been stretching up – standing on her tiptoes – right behind the door…reaching the doorframe…trying to…

"Matsumoto, if you're trying to redecorate the office then you can forge---" he began, looking up in annoyance to see what she had put up this time. Stopping mid sentence, his eyes widened and his cheek colored. A  _mistletoe_

"Hey, Matsumoto…"

"Eeehh, yes, Captain?"

"What are you planning?" He stared at her with what he hoped would be a hard, flat look but the embarrassment and mental images made it slightly difficult to keep a straight face. His question seemed to have brought her back on track, previously startled by his sudden appearance, and she grinned slyly as she took a step closer and leaned in.

"Well, it was going to be a surprise for later, but I might as well," she said sighing, as if slightly disappointed, before coming even closer and stealing a light kiss. His lips parted in an 'oh' as she straightened up again, grinning wide at his obvious blush.

"Merry Christmas Captain!" she exclaimed in a light sing-song voice, reaching out and crushing him in one of her fearful hugs. The familiarity of the situation helped him calm down, and as she let go of him he licked his lips in wonder, freezing when he tasted chocolate.

"Oi, Matsumoto," he growled, making her blink innocently. "Did you eat of the chocolate?"

"Err…perhaps?"

"What do you mean  _perhaps?!_  I told you not too! I  _ordered_  you not to! It was for later! Gah, you're hopeless sometimes, you know that?"

"But I did it for your sake Captain!" she retorted with a wink, making him clench the papers hard despite his mental chant to calm down.

"How was that  _for my sake_  Matsumoto?!"

"Well, you see," she began, smiling innocently, "I wanted to taste good for you."

At his blank stare and burning blush, she laughed and patted his back in mock sympathy. "I'll pick you up for the Christmas party around 5, okay? See ya!"

And with that, she left her stunned Captain and, of course, the paperwork behind.

"MATSUMOTO GET YOUR LAZY ASS BACK HERE!!"


	58. Bankai

Who would've thought, that it was possible? She certainly hadn't. A few months back, she might've said it was a possibility. A year ago she'd laughed her ass off. But here she was, standing tall with blazing, icy eyes focused ahead. Her bakai released – the reason to her late nights and heavy hangovers not far away – Matsumoto Rangiku felt  _powerful._  Her anger, her hurt and pain fueled her passion as adrenaline pumped through her veins. Screams and metal against metal deafened her ears, blood and dirt dulled her scent, cuts and bruises numbed her skin and his ever-lasting grin blinded her eyes. There was nothing, nothing at all, but him. She leapt through clouds of dust, she swung her zanpaktou's lonely guard and directed hot, burning ash towards anyone who dared interfere. He was hers.

Metal grew longer, aiming to pierce her heart but failing. How arrogant, she mused. He could not survive this, there was no chance. She could end it now, with one flick of her wrist, but her mind was screaming in agony and long of release. He would suffer; he would go down with a fight. No matter what he'd done, her heart ached for him more than because of him. Dying seconds after entering a fight was not what she wished for him and his twisted pride. Maybe she did it out of pity, or affection, or cruelty. She honestly did not know.

Her sleeve was cut open. Her fingers bled and a trail of sweat disappeared down her cleavage. He had yet to release his own beast, his own  _bankai_ Good, she would not allow him to.

Piercing pain; gut-wrenching agony. His sword was planted deep in her shoulder. It slid across her bones, cut into her flesh like a knife in butter. Somewhere, she heard a scream. It couldn't be her own; why would she shout her own name? Gritting her teeth at the effort of staying remotely still as he withdrew his blade from her body, she got ready. This had gone on long enough.

The screaming continued.

What? Did she look that bad? Detached from reality, she saw his eyes open wide. He was ready, ready to kill. Well, she thought, so am I. Guiding her zanpakou with a simple move of her arm and hand, she whispered a command lost to the battle cries around her. Black ash, glowing and emitting hellish flames, flew towards him. Burning his eyes and skin, surrounding his body within seconds, it growled and hissed viciously. He screamed in pain as the fine ash crept up his nose and down his throat; entering his body swiftly. She could only image his pain, could only compare it to her own as she flicked her wrist and sent him to his death. His heart must be in a million pieces, his insides wrecked and useless. She watched as he fell, slowly it seemed, towards the ground. The end. It was the end. Of everything they'd shared, memories, one-sided feelings and regret. How come she's not crying? Where are her tears? Puzzled, she sinks to the ground. Her dazed state prevents her from reacting to the call of her name, the feel of familiar spirit energy and strong arms slinking around her waist. A jolt of pain as she is roughly dragged along in a flash-step shakes her mind and clears the dull and numbed thoughts. She finds herself outside the battlefield, hastily pulled towards a small, flat chest and uncomfortably placed on the ground; her waist slightly twisted to allow her position against the smaller frame. The grip of her trusted zanpaktou loosens and she allows herself to breathe out. The pain is beating like a pulse in her ears, and the desperate questions and accusations are muffled. But it doesn't matter. With a smile, she recognizes the voice. She knows his name.

-

"Did you see it, Captain? My…Bankai?"

-

-


	59. Curiosity Killed the Cat (Tattoos part 2)

Rolling her shoulders, cracking her neck, stretching her arms, bumping up and down on her tiptoes a few times, throwing her hair back and finally cracking her fingers in another stretch of her arms, Matsumoto Rangiku looked quite strange. Amusing, but strange. The mocking glint in her eyes and her crooked smile only confirmed his suspicions; she knew he was up to something. Perhaps asking her for a sparring session wasn't that smart, but he was getting desperate. If this wouldn't work, he would allow her to win and then buy her crazy amounts of sake to 'celebrate' and try to trick her in her intoxicated state. Perhaps that would be easier?

Well, drunk or not, Matsumoto was still quite observant and annoyingly good at reading his behavior. The fact that she was rubbing it in right now didn't help matters.

"Ready Captain?" she chirped, grinning as she took a stance and grabbed her zanpaktou. He followed suit, not bothering to reply. He needed to land a perfect hit, cutting through fabric enough for whatever she had to be revealed but not enough for her uniform to slip loose. That would be quite embarrassing.

Frowning, he went for an attack. She blocked it easily, disappearing for a second before reappearing behind. He twisted around and shielded himself with his blade, pushing back as she tried to get him off balanced. She fell back and returned to her former stance, waiting. She was very good at dodging his attacks, so he needed to concentrate. As his eyes thinned, locking on a possible opening, he prepared for another attack. This time, he would land a hit.

It wasn't until the ripping of fabric and the surprised gasp reached his ear that he realized he didn't know which  _side_  the tattoo was on. Swallowing, he turned his head. What was he going to see? Had he picked the right side? Directing his gaze down to the little skin exposed on her right hip, he groaned in annoyance. Nothing!

"Aw! Captain, if you wanted me naked you could've just asked!" Her cooing brought him back from his thoughts of failure and he flushed a deep red.

"Matsumoto!" he snapped, embarrassment written all over him. She grinned and sheathed her sword, before placing her left hand on her hips and letting her right hand finger the split fabric.

"I can't fight like this," she said with a mock pout, winking. "I better go change! It was nice of you to ask me to spar; we haven't done that in ages! Well, have a good day Captain. See ya!"

And she was gone. Yet again. He felt like strangling someone, or at least blow up four or five buildings.

A week, a whole bloody  _week_  of trying and still nothing! Was it really worth it? It was just a tattoo after all, who cares?

But it had made Matsumoto Rangiku  _blush._   _Matsumoto_ _Rangiku_ ,  **blush**

He supposed the long hours of trying to come up with subtle questions and the agonizing effort of being in Abarai's, Yumichika's and Ikkaku's company is worth it for the greater cause. Not everything had been that bad, really. Nanao was, if impossible to persuade, quite an enjoyable company. He'd known the lieutenant's of the 8th and 10th divisions was close, but it seemed they shared a deep friendship despite their differences. He hadn't been able to find out anything he didn't already know, not even when laying heavy emphasis on the fact that Matsumoto could be quite reckless and do things she'd regret or that was considered pretty…improper. Instead, when he'd walked out of the 8th division's office, he'd felt strangely puzzled rather than gloriously enlightened. It had felt as if  _she'd_  gained information even though he'd been the one asking questions.

Sighing in agitation, he decided to retire to his office for now. He would go to the bar tonight and seek the drunk Matsumoto out instead of being the one paying for the seemingly endless bottles of sake, coming to the conclusion that it would be less suspicions that way. The day he bought sake to his alcoholic lieutenant was the day he was out of ideas, which he wasn't. Yet.

As he sat down by his desk and decided to make a sort of mental list. What had he done so far? What could he do more? He  _would_  find out her secret. No matter what.

Why would she get a tattoo with connections to him anyway? As far as he knew, tattoo's were permanent. It irked him not to have an answer.

Shaking his head, he started to count up the different little adventures he'd been on these past few days.

Day 1: Staring constantly at Matsomoto, trying to grasp the concept of her having a tattoo and that she had actually blushed.

Day 2: Returning to Soul Society and avoiding Matsumoto like the plague, she'd been more than a little suspicious at his sudden interest and she'd taken any opportunity available to make embarrassing assumptions and suggestions.

Day 3: Plotting was finally started. Staring hadn't been enough for her to suddenly confess her secret out of guilt. Or something like that.

Day 4: He'd found out what various beauty supplies was by engaging Yumichika in a conversation. This had led him to believe Matsumoto was a kind soul deep down inside for sparing him the detailed description of how she made her hair look so shiny and touchable.

Day 5: Figuring it couldn't get worse, he'd gone to Ikkaku in hope of that as her drinking partner, he would know and not get into heated rants about split ends and ugly people. Sadly, it had gone worse. He now knew more that he'd liked to know about Matsumoto's drunken escapades, and was mortified to learn she'd composed a song about  _Shiro-chan_  and his  _adorable moods._  He'd done well without the knowledge that she'd French-kissed Hinamori once too. No wonder she blushed whenever his lieutenant was around.

Day 6: Now realizing that asking Abarai would be pretty logical, since he'd been the one to bring it up in the first place, he'd gone to the 6th division only to find Byakuya shoving candy down a hyper pinkhead's throat. Apparently Abarai was off training, so he'd had to spend an hour finding exactly _where_. Once he did, he wished he hadn't. Kuchiki Rukia had been there, and while Abarai was on a break she'd probably started giving him 'feedback' in the form of drawings. Abarai had almost run him over in his relief of being excused. His information had been useless though. He knew, but wouldn't tell. It was almost amusing to watch his pathetic attempts to change subject. It had ended with a surprisingly serious advice on Abarai's part. "If she hasn't told you yet, then she doesn't want you to know yet. Ask her herself if you really want to know," he'd said. Not much help there either.

Now having arrived to day 7, with another failure to add, he felt rather tempted to actually ask her himself. But if he did, and she didn't answer, then she'd know exactly what he was after and do her best to actually hide it. She wasn't making an effort now, because she didn't know that he knew.

All in all, this was all getting pretty frustrating he concluded.

But he wouldn't give up.

 

oOo

"I'm telling you, he's up to something!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms up in the air to further stress her statement. Nanao blinked, hiding a smirk behind her hand as she watched Rangiku pace back and forth.

"Maybe he's just finally realized what a beautiful woman you are and how lucky he is, Ran-chan," the Captain of the 8th division cooed, resting on his desk with sake bottle in hand.

"Tsk, poor Captain wouldn't know attraction even if it came hitting him in his face. Trust me, I've tried," she muttered, coming to a stop in front of the desk and swiftly taking the sake bottle. Draining a healthy gulp of the liquid, she shook her head sadly and continued her restless pacing; ignoring the whimpers from the Captain already missing his alcohol.

"Would you two please stop drinking in the office, during work hours?" Nanao drawled, sighing when she realized no one was listening. Well, what had she expected?

"First, he stared at me like I've grown an extra head or something, then he avoids me, and then he starts disappearing at random to gods knows where! I don't know what's going on! Shunsui, what should I do?" Her rant was slightly slurred due to her intoxicated state. How she'd managed to consume so much sake this early in the day was a mystery to Nanao, especially since she was sure it wasn't long ago she'd been off to spar with Captain Hitsugaya. If only she could find her stock of sake, then perhaps she could reduce her drinking habits to a more normal level.

"Easy, Ran-chan. You just have to…find out!" her Captain chirped, taking her back to the cruel reality. Having two infamous drunks in the same office with just one, quickly emptying, bottle of sake was, indeed, a cruel fate.

"YEAH!" came Rangiku's eager reply, her expression impressed. Her brain must be working overtime now, Nanao mused. "I'll just find out what he's after! Thank you Shunsui, Nanao!"

And with that, the inebriated bundle of energy and spontaneous stupidity was gone. Sighing, the remaining lieutenant walked over to slap some sense into her crying Captain; taking his mind off his bottle of sake Rangiku had brought with her. She wondered who would find out first; Captain Hitsugaya, or Rangiku?

 

oOo

After walking around for a good while, she decided that she wasn't going to be able to form a plan. So, sticking with the easiest and most logical course of action, Matsumoto Rangiku makes her way towards the office of the 10th division.

She was just going to ask him, it was a piece of cake! Grinning, she entered and spotted her white-haired Captain by his usual place behind the large desk of his.

"Heeeeeey Captain!" she greeted, skipping over to where he sat. Looking up, he eyed her suspiciously. "I've got something to ask you!"

"Oh?" he drawled, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. Eagerly, she sits down on the edge of the desk and leans forward slightly; poking his chest with a finger.

"Yeah, yeah! You know how strange you've been acting Captain? There's something you wanna know, isn't there? What is it? Tell me!"

Swatting her hand away, he frowns and struggles to keep his blush down. She seems drunk enough not to notice, but this woman could hold her liquor and looks can be deceiving.

"Stop this nonsense. What makes you say that?" he muttered, sending her a glare.

"C'mon Captain! It started after we'd been in the living world, didn't it? So…it's gotta have happened somewhere before then…hmm… Is it about your boxers?"

His eyes thinned to slits. "What about them?"

"Ehehehehehe, never mind. Um, is it about how I disappeared for an afternoon? I was just off shopping!"

"So that was what you did. Matsumoto, how many times do I---"

"---no? Okay, is it about that cat?"

"Wha---"

"—or the spiked coke?"

"Matsu—"

"---maybe it's about that rental car, I swear I was going to return it unharmed but—"

"---would you please let me---"

"---ooohh it's the tattoo, isn't it?"

He blinked, staring blankly at her happy smile. She'd just admitted she had one, now this was his chance!

"Oh, damn," she said, seeing his reaction. Her smile faded along with her pleased feeling of having figured out what was wrong. He wasn't supposed to know about that!

"Matsumoto," he began, taking a firm hold of her wrist to keep her from fleeing, "spill."

Somehow, she knew she shouldn't have tried to figure out what was on his mind.


	60. Remembered

_"Hey brat, have you even thought of becoming a_ _Shinigami_

_Just so you know...if things stay as they are…this power of yours will overwhelm you and do ever greater harm to those around you._

_A half pint with your_ _kinda_ _strength needs to learn how to keep it under wraps._

_It's like a voice is echoing in your head…am I right?_

_You must identify the source…then and only then can you begin the long journey to mastering your powers. In order to do that, you have no other choice but to become a_ _Shinigami_

_Hope you heard me, '_ _cuz_ _I hate having to repeat myself…_

_Munchkin…"_

She wouldn't have to repeat herself, he mused. He remembered her little speech word by word. He'd done as she'd said, he was even a top student now. His zanpaktou's name was Hyōrinmaru, the strongest of ice and water zanpaktous. He would not let his own powers harm those around him, he would gain complete control over the insanely strong dragon within. But what she had failed to mention, was how mind-numbingly  _boring_  it was.

He'd already surpassed most in his classes, been moved up several years, and was still not satisfied. Information was easily absorbed, easily remembered, yet it was repeated again and again. Kidou spells were easily memorized, but difficult to handle properly, and yet they went through the written basics still he was ready to stop going to class and start training on his own. Same went for swordplay, fencing and traditional, rough fighting. The instructors kept the fights restrained, kept them under control and forced them to use simple, easily dodged moves that was for the amateurs they were so happily criticizing.

He was desperate for a change in the never-ending routine of his classes, and it was a pleasant surprise to learn that they would  _finally_  fight hollows. Only weak ones, of course. And under the supervision an already graduated and experienced Shinigami. But still, it would be _fighting_

"You will be divided into groups of three and each group will be given a supervisor, who will make sure nothing goes wrong. He or she will be to your help, and will also report back to tell us how you handled the situation. Listen carefully as I call up your names and give you your Shinigami's name and your group's number," their teacher explained. The young, white-haired boy listened dispassionately as several names was called, along with this. "Hitsugaya Toshrio" was heard, and he looked up in response. He was in group 7, together with Tarou and Kazu. Their supervisor was one Matsumoto Rangiku. He wondered if she was a cold woman, ruthless and chaotic or if she was a beauty, tender and warm. Her name had a strange combination in its meanings.

"You will all gather outside after lunch and then head out with your respective teammates and supervisor. Remaining information will be given to you later on. Class dismissed!"

Students moved, swiftly exiting the classroom while talking excitedly among themselves. Toshiro moved out of the way and easily snuck passed elbows and arms to escape the class. He was used to the disadvantages of his size, along with his young age and superior intellect. Easily mistaken for a little snotty brat, or not seen at all, he'd learn to dodge whatever obstacle put in his way. The sneers and snide comments about arrogance didn't anger him anymore, only made him annoyed. If they were outsmarted by a kid, they didn't have much to brag about anyway.

"Hey! Toshiro!" Kazu called, coming up from behind. Toshiro guessed he could've had worse luck; Kazu was actually a pretty nice guy apart from his perverted streak, which made him quite infamous among the females.

"We got a female! I wonder how she is, eh?" What a surprising question, Toshiro mused with a sigh. "With you in our group we'll surely impress her! I wonder what type of guys she likes…hmm..Raniku-san, eh? Chrysanthemum is a beautiful flower, I bet she is too. What do you think, Toshiro?"

"I think she must be reliable since she was given the responsibility of keeping guys like you safe," he drawled, removing Kazu's hand from his shoulder. He shot him a mock-hurt look, lips twitching as he tried to suppress a grin.

"That was mean Toshiro- _kun!_  But oh well, you'll change your mind once I save your ass!"

"Right."

Kazu continued to make small-talk, forcing Toshiro to silently admit he missed talking this openly with someone. While Kazu was polite and nice to everyone, he wasn't a real…friend. More like a closer classmate. But he didn't complain, the company was surprisingly enjoyable as they sat through lunch together. He had his hopes up from this upcoming teamwork. Now, if only Tarou would be sensible enough to try and get along. He thought he did, but you never know. It was almost ridiculous how many different reaction Toshiro could get from people.

"Okay you lazy asses line up!" a familiar voice called as they reached the appointed meeting place along with the rest of the class.

"Wow, check out that  _rack!_  She's hot!" Kazu hissed, eyes as wide as Toshiro's. Oh he remembered them, those big air bags that'd run over him almost three years ago, and her cold, blue eyes were exactly like he remembered them. Blazing, burning, lively. The only thing that had changed was the length of her hair, now a bit passed her shoulders rather that a bit above. It was almost scary how well he had remembered her.

"Wipe that drool off and  _move_  dammit!" came her annoyed roar, setting several males into action, including Toshiro, Kazu and a newly joined Tarou. While everyone else went to their own supervisor – all of them looking extremely bored apart from Matsumoto Rangiku who just seemed to be pissed at being here – group 7 made their way towards the intimidating woman.

"So, you wimps are in my group, eh?" she said as they reached her. Toshiro frowned, ready to retort when she continued. "Well then, let's kick some Hollows' ass!"

Turning abruptly, she started to walk away. Blinking, Toshiro hurried up to follow along with his two teammates who had remained silent and slightly taken aback at her behavior. It surely didn't match her beautiful, delicate looks but Toshiro had met her once before and was just slightly surprised. The fact that she didn't seem to recognize him was more surprising to say the least. Who forgets a kid with white hair who almost turned an old woman into an icicle? Matsumoto Rangiku, apparently.

The way to whatever training grounds they had been given was spent mostly in silence, interrupted only by Kazu's attempt and rising a conversation. The only one interested seemed to be Tarou, much to Kazu's dismay.

"Matsumoto-san," Toshiro finally addressed her, barely earning a hum in response. Where the hell was her manners?!

"Are we going to get orders, or will we be fighting and handling the situation on our own?"

She turned her head and flashed him a grin, blue eyes twinkling. "Good question kiddo; you seem to have understood the importance of following orders. And yes, I will give you a few but other than that, I'll just be sitting back and enjoy the show!"

Grunting in reply, he continued to walk in silence. As soon as they arrived, Matsumoto told them to work together and kill all the Hollows except for one, which they would try and capture alive. How they were going to do that, Toshiro had no idea. They had barely received enough training in kidou spells to know how to restrain a full-grown hollow, no matter how weak.

As they set to work, Matsumoto lived up to her words and sat patiently awaiting a time where she needed to step in. It went surprisingly sooth, till they came to the last Hollow. Toshiro had singled it out as the weakest the first thing he did, and hand asked his teammates to leave it till last. Now, the only thing left was to bring it down alive. His mind seemed to work on overtime, the rush of dangers of a real fight urging him on. He went through the latest spells he'd learned at a frantic speed, not stumbling upon anyone that would be of help. Avoiding the Hollow's strikes and attacks, the group was at a loss.

With a flash of blonde and black, the Hollow was bound to the ground with kidou ropes summoned by a spell. Toshiro frowned as he landed on the ground, a few feet away from Matsumoto where she stood beside the Hollow. The rest of the group followed suit, standing still as they waited for her to speak.

"Well, seems like things haven't changed," she mused, an amused smile tugging at her full lips. Toshiro raised a brow in question before she continued. "They haven't taught you much kidou, that's for sure. Pretty stupid if you ask me."

Drawing her sword, she brought it down through the Hollow's mask and finished it off. "I just wanted to confirm my suspicions by asking you to retrain this Hollow. It's not usually something that needs to be done, unless it's a special case and it shows some kind of abnormality that needs to be examined. Well, that aside, since you finished this so quickly why don't I teach you that spell, hm? We don't need to be back for an hour or two anyway."

Kazu and Tarou agreed eagerly and grinned widely, eyes shining with excitement. Toshiro himself was frowning, puzzled at her attitude. He wasn't about to turn her offer down though, anything new to learn was welcomed after all.

Explaining the technique and the summoning words, Matsumoto turned her focus to him as Kazu and Tarou set to work.

"Hey, kiddo," she began, grinning. "I see you took my advice."

"You remember me?" he asked, confused. She laughed and patted his back roughly, making him wince slightly.

"Of course kiddo! I just didn't want to give you any extra attention. I know how jealous guys get, especially around geniuses," she explained with a wink, ruffling his hair. Miffed, he swatted her hand away and growled.

"Thank you, I guess," he muttered, getting ready to try the new spell. "Just stop calling me kiddo!"

She laughed as she turned her attention towards the other two males, correcting their mistakes and ignoring his demand. He started wondering what part of her name's meaning was the most fitting, finding her personality chaotic but her looks beautiful. Maybe it was too early to tell, but then again, he might not ever get a chance to talk to her again.

He would make sure to remember this day as clear as the one those few years ago.

" _A half pint with your_ _kinda_ _strength needs to learn how to keep it under wraps._ _"_

_-_

_"_ _You must identify the source…then and only then can you begin the long journey to mastering your powers. In order to do that, you have no other choice but to become a_ _Shinigami_ _"_

_"_ _Hope you heard me, '_ _cuz_ _I hate having to repeat myself…_ _"_

_"_ _Munchkin…"_


	61. Pretty Woman

Matsumoto Rangiku was many things. She was cheerful and filled with energy; the best way to describe a 'living' dead, because she was, after all, enjoying her second life – the afterlife – which comes after death. And not only was she one of the dead, but also a Shinigami, whose work is to protect the souls who cannot defend themselves against the horrors still present after death.

While Hitsugaya Toshiro found that part of her being quite questionable at the moment, it didn't change the fact that it was, indeed, her job. He had to remind himself that she wasn't always this drunk, and she wasn't always this annoying or lazy; that she did, at times, convert into the serious Shinigami she ought to be. All this went through his mind during a quite short amount of time, and when it had all passed, he had already convinced himself to not release his ice dragon upon the grinning female before him.

She was, after all, smiling.

He wondered what kind of smile it was. With her, it was hard to see the difference. Sometimes it was cute, sometimes it was beautiful, sometimes it was sweet and sometimes it was cruel. It changed, depending on her moods. Just like her appearance.

Yesterday, as she'd helped him sort the remaining files of the day and chatted on about nothing in particular, she'd been cute. The way she worries about him – thinking he might feel lonely or in need of a smile – makes him mentally picture himself pinching her cheeks, while he savors the warmth her concern brings him.

A week before that, when she had dragged him out to enjoy the warming rays of sun in the blooming weather of an early spring, she had been beautiful. As always, the season was caught in her features and made it all the more living.

And then there was this time, in the beginning of the month, when she had found him asleep by his desk; exhaustion and stress taking over. She had poked his nose repeatedly to wake him up, and when he opened his eyes the first thing he saw her strikingly blue eyes. Then he took note of the strange disappearance of his unfinished paperwork, before being dragged up from his chair and out of the office to finally be shoved into his quarters. When she said good night, she'd been nothing but sweet.

Though when she looked cruel – when her smile was smug and her eyes twinkling – he would rather run than stay to admire her appearance. Because Captain or not, you did not escape the wrath nor the clutches of Matsumoto Rangiku.

"Heeey, Capt'n, are you listenin'?"

Finally making a conclusion, Toshiro decided that today, Rangiku was pretty.


	62. Play Pretend

Today was the day when lovers exchanged gifts, when you received unexpected presents, when one put love into a letter or home-make chocolate in hopes it would reach the person accepting it.

Today was Valentine's Day, or, as some prefer, Single Awareness' Day.

The 10th division found itself showered with chocolates, letters, cakes, hearts, flowers and whatnot, without doubt due to their busty, beautiful Lieutenant and good-looking, smart Captain. The latter didn't seem to take it that well, though his subordinate enjoyed the chocolate like it was the finest food in the world. 'Why put it to waste?' she said.

The white-haired Captain later rephrased the question to ' _how?'_ after watching her consume box after box after bag with the smooth, milky brown sweets while his lay untouched. When he commented about how happy she seemed to have received such great amount of gifts, and questioned her will to look through them  _all,_  her only reply was a bubbly laugh. It was almost as if, she was laughing at a private joke.

And actually, she was.

She loved chocolate, more than most females, and of course she was flattered to catch the attention of so many men (and women, she had to add with a giggle). But, where was his? She had gone through all of the gifts, like he noted, but yet again…it was missing. Like a mocking absence in a crowd of unimportant matter where nothing but the emptiness stood out. He didn't have to give it with love; he didn't have to give it with sweet nonsense in mind. It was enough, if it was just a show of friendship; an acknowledgement of her position in his life.

The money resting in her hand was his,  _borrowed_  from his stash kept in his desk's drawer. He had escaped the office to avoid Ukitake and his overwhelming contribution to the already growing pile of candy occupying the 10th division's office. She took the chance.

Now she was walking out of the familiar area to enter the world outside the Shinigamis' compound, strolling down the streets and looking for a certain store.

'Ah, there!'

It was a simple store, somewhat hidden in the crooks and turns of the streets and its surrounding buildings. The façade was worn and the little sign outside stood sloping on the ground; its fading black kanji bravely exposing the unfitting name.

 _Anything, Everything,_ it read. Probably the least visited store in the whole of Soul Society. It had no food, except for sweets, and sold many strange, seemingly useless things; from books to fragile looking balls of uneven glass. It was her favourite place.

"Ah, Rangiku-chan, welcome back," an old woman greeted when she stepped inside, gazing upon the smiling blonde who inclined her head in reply.

"Obaba," she said, voice mocking as she laughed it off. The old woman smiled; tsk'ing as she returned to the rocking chair she had been sitting on before the entrance of her familiar costumer.

"The same as always? Or are you looking for something else this time?" she asked, leaning back comfortably. Rangiku sighed, trying to count how many times that question had been asked over the recent years.

"Why must you ask, obaasan?" she mumbled, shaking her head while making her way further into the store. When she reached the wall with the shelf dedicated to confectionery of all kinds, Rangiku started humming a soft tune. Taking her time to eye the different glass bowls filled to the brig with colourful, dull, nasty and delicious looking candy, she pondered the option of breaking her little tradition. The money still clutched in her hand, now sweaty, made her heave another sigh. Of course she wouldn't.

Reaching her Captain's sweets, for they truly were the only kind he might admit liking, she took a poorly made little bag and started filling it with the small, almost real-looking, watermelon slices. The old lady had started to hum with her, making her realize she'd started singing on that tune again.

"That'll be all, obaba." She dropped the coins on the counter, smiling.

"Leaving already, Rangiku?" The rocking chair squeaked as it went back and forth, slowly, and the older woman didn't bother to get up.

"Yes, I suspect my Captain is going to start searching the pubs soon and drag my ass back to the office, so I better be there when me comes looking." Rangiku frowned at the knowing smile grazing the other's lips at her words, but shrugged it off. She had never told her because of who, or even why, she bought these sweets. Yet she seemed to know; mocking her with the experience of long years spent observing life with such kind, clever eyes.

"Have fun," the old female said with a small wave, watching the form of the blonde retreat from the store's strange sphere.

"Of course! Bye!" she replied, grinning as she opened the door.

"Ran-chan, take care, of yourself."

She lingered in the door opening, before leaving while chuckling lightly. "You too, obaasan."

-

It was just as she got seated that the door to the pub flew open to reveal a very annoyed looking Captain. His eyes searched the room and she calmly accepted a cup of sake from the owner as she waited for him to take notice of her. It didn't take long.

"Matsumoto! Stop sneaking off to drink all the time!" he growled, now standing but a feet away from her relaxed form. Sipping on her drink, the corners of her mouth twitched.

"But Captaaain," she whined lightly, titling her head to meet his beautiful, cold eyes. "It's  _Valentine's Day!_  I should be allowed to take a few drinks! This day isn't for work you know…"

When she leaned closer to him and lowered her head to gaze up through thick lashes, making the last part of her sentence seem very suggestive, he backed down and blushed light red while his eyes widened.

"It doesn't matter what day it is. You are not allowed to drink on duty! I order you, as you Captain, to come back to the office and finish your paperwork!" he snapped,; clearly his limit had been tested one too many times today. She didn't mind, really. He was cute when he'd gotten his fur all ruffled.

"Aww, spoils sport!" she said with a grin before sighing and continuing in a chirp, almost mocking, voice to which he snorted. "I'll be right there, Captain, sir!"

"How much have you drunk?" he asked after she had drowned her glass, making her giggle while she jumped off of the stool she'd been on.

"Oh, you know me! A good few!" she replied with a laugh, earning confused looks from the owner polishing the glasses. The young Captain didn't take notice, because now, his world extended to one and only one annoyance.

"Troublesome."

-

Back in the office, Rangiku suffered through a great deal of paperwork for an amazingly long amount of time. According to her clock, anyway. So her break was well deserved and justified she argued when her Captain questioned her newfound position on the couch.

"I thought you'd gotten rid of all the sweets by now, Matsumoto." She looked up from her current occupation and raised her brows. Did he really think it was possible for her to eat all those boxes? More than two thirds had been donated to her sweet-loving friends, or been reused to be given to random passing shinigamis. Well, okay, perhaps that had been what he'd meant.

"Oh, this is new; got it this afternoon," she explained, chewing on the little piece of melon candy. He frowned, seeming to remember something, before sighing.

"Money is missing again, Matsumoto. Don't tell me you bought  _sweets_  on  _Valentine's Day_  for  _yourself!_  And with my money, nonetheless!" She cringed under his gaze, fiddling with the little bag resting in her lap. He took this as a yes, and growled. "Why would you do that? Dammit woman, didn't you get enough of it today?"

"But," she pointed out with a grin, "I didn't get anything from you! So, I bought some for myself on your behalf!"

"But," he replied, reluctantly amused, "that doesn't make it into something I gave you, considering you took the money without asking, and that I had no intentions to borrow it to you for such a stupid reason in the first place."

She smiled sadly, and despite herself, she couldn't help but inhale a painful breath when her heart clenched pitifully. "But, Captain, I can play pretend, can't I?"


	63. Imagination

_He was standing before her, dressed up in a fancy tuxedo that she'd seen in the living world. His hair was as unruly and spiky as ever, and the light colours stood out against the black fabric of his clothes. The red roses tied up in a neat bouquet_ _clenched in his hands matched his soft cheeks, and she had to retrain herself from pinching them._

_"These are for you," he said, clearly embarrassed, as he shoved the roses into her hands._

_"Aww, thank you Toshrio-kun," she gushed,_ _hugging the flowers to her chest. Surprisingly, it didn't sting. "What's all this for?"_

_At her question, she looked around and saw a group of musicians, a table for two, beautiful decorations, delicious looking food, and all of it on the top of a roof. She remembered telling him how much she loved gazing at the stars, and she was giddy to note he had remembered. The night was starry and just breathtakingly beautiful!_

_"I…" he began, but stopped when she looked back at him to meet his nervous gaze. "Matsumoto…"_

_"Yes?" she breathed, suddenly anxious and excited. He dropped his eyes for a moment, before looking back up with a renewed resolve twinkling in his startlingly gorgeous orbs of teal._

_"Matsumoto…would you, be my wife?"_

_He was on his knees, she noted dumbly as she stared at him in shock .Opening and closing her mouth, she barely got to finish her agreement before he captured her dry lips and moisture them in a way she found most pleasing._

_"Matsumoto…" he mumbled. "Matsumoto_ _.."_

_She could never grow tired of him calling her name, even if it was her last._

_"Matsumoto…Matsumoto…Matsumoto_ _..MATSUMOTO!"_

_Well, okay, maybe she could. Why wasn't he shutting up and just…continuing that wonder kissing? Dammit. Captains these days!_

"MATSUMOTO RANGIKU!"

Suddenly awake, said woman bolted up from the couch and promptly fell down on the floor with a loud thud.

"Ow," she winced, rubbing her arm as she sat up. Looking around her, seeing only the boring office of the 10th division, Rangiku reluctantly admitted that it had all been a dream. A very good dream, if a bit corny.

"Geez, I've been calling you for ages!" the, literally, man of her dreams exclaimed. "What were you doing, dreaming of sake?"

"No, something much better," she mumbled, pausing to yawn and stretch. "You'd be surprised at my imagination, really."

He snorted. "Go on, surprise me."

"Would it suffice with saying it involved you, a tuxedo, roses and a proposal?" she asked, blinking innocently and suppressing a smirk.

Well, he had asked for it.


	64. Grass-Eater

Ever since the day Matsumoto spotted the marvelous device in the living world, eating away at the grass, she had been fascinated. In order to learn more about them, she'd looked through the commercial papers Orihime got through the mail  _(because the girl is too nice to turn it away when it was the postmen's job to come all the way to her house to deliver them – yes, way too nice according to_ _Ichigo_ _, who also thought she was being stupid for acting upon such a reason, all the while patting her head and calling her a good girl[](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/3717068/14/Seize-the-Moment) in a way Matsumoto found incredibly funny. So funny she tried it on her innocent Captain (and yes, she actually called him a good _ _ **girl**_ _))._ After waiting by the letterbox six in the morning for two days, Matsumoto'd gathered that it had been time to visit one of the stores which sold these interesting machines. She then knew enough about them to know there were several different kinds of grass-eaters  _(as she'd decided to call them, despite_ _Orihime's_ _quiet corrections and her Captain's irritated objections, simply because it sounded much more exciting),_  such as the walking-and-pushing-it-before-you and then, her favorite, the grass-eating  **car** _(she had finally agreed to stop calling the four wheeled vehicle DCC ("D double C", or, "Death Cab for Captain" after a very funny incident involving her Captain,_ _Ichigo's_ _dad's car, herself, sake, melon-flavored kisses and a slippery steering wheel))_.

It took her about one minute from entering the store till she was sitting happily on the seat of the grass-eating car  _(much to her Captain's dismay)_. She didn't get out of the store for one more hour, when her Captain had finally had enough of being shoved into a weird machine after another  _(he still didn't know how she'd gotten him there, but she says it's okay because he doesn't need to think when she can do that for him. Somehow, that doesn't sit well with the 10_ _th_ _division's Captain – especially not when she's holding a bottle of sake close to her enormous chest)_.

Her Captain sadly stopped her from buying any of the machines, despite her tries to persuade him  _(though, she almost got him to agree after abusing his hormones to the breaking point. Too bad he's a Captain for a reason, and quite a lot stronger than her. In the end though, she didn't really mind)_. But Matsumoto is Matsumoto, and once she returned to Soul Society with a very satisfied  _(in one too many ways)_  Captain, she already had a plan. It wasn't sure to succeed, and certainly was not flawless, but once she dropped by Byakuya, it seemed like her worries had been ill placed. It occurred to her later that she should've worried about herself, but now she quickly dismissed it as the incident with the grass-eating car was already over.

But still, it had been quite interesting to say the least.

When she'd invited herself over for tea at the huge Kuchiki household  _('forgetting' to tell her Captain, just to be sure he wouldn't suspect anything)_ , and strolled through the beautiful garden as Renji tried to chase her away  _(being the ever loyal Lieutenant, of course he was there to save his Captain from the dangerous bundle of energy threatening to outshine his Sakura trees)_ , Matsumoto had absently remarked that the wonder machine she saw in the living world would cut the grass so evenly and fast 

that gardening wouldn't be a problem ever again. She didn't care that she'd pretty much over-praised it and played on the nobleman's strong like of beautiful gardens perfected in every detail.

Well, to make a long story short, he bought it. And since she was the only one who 'knew' how it worked, she was allowed into his garden with the instructions to make it perfect.

She  _might've_  enjoyed riding the grass-eater for the first time a bit  _too_ much.

Not even her Captain could think of anything to say when she brought him to the garden in a desperate search for solutions before the owner gazed upon the destruction.

"Run," he'd finally advised her. When she pointed out Byakuya would probably find her straight away, he merely shrugged and dead-panned; "Well, if I were you, I'd take my chances."

He didn't remain as cool and calm  _(and disgustingly smug)_  later that night when he'd found her hiding in his futon.

See, when Byakuya has had his precious garden maimed he doesn't stop to consider innocent bystanders as he spots his target. So it was just in self-defence, her Captain told her after saving her from a painful bankai. She thanked him anyway.

_(And he was suddenly grateful she'd chosen his futon.)_


	65. Cliché

It happened yesterday.

Now, he held her in his arms; she was crying; she was broken.

He felt anger, hot and burning, for the people who had caused this.

Sympathy, for she had been through too much.

Understanding, for he knew her pain.

Regret that it had come to this.

But he felt relief and security, for he knew she was safe in his arms.

He knew he would lick her wounds, dry her tears; kiss away her pain, steady her feet, stop the trembling and give whatever she needed.

The feelings merged and formed the sharp piece that cut deep in his heart, her desperate sobs and cold tears burned and harassed his skin and ears, and it felt like forever till the pain finally dulled enough to allow him to breathe normally.

To see her like this – openly hurting, shamelessly grieving, sincerely  _caring;_  giving a damn – made him wonder how something as ugly as heartbreak could be so disgustingly, unbelievable beautiful. He felt so small with her, so young and inexperienced despite what he himself had gone through, for it was nothing compared to her. She – Matsumoto Rangiku – who had treated him like her equal even when he was far from it, when he still was a rude little brat with too much intelligence to know how to handle the world around him. It made him wonder, desperately, how he could repay her. Her loyal friendship, her burning passion and love focused only on him when he needed it the most… What could he do, but to give as much as he took?

His hold on her tightened; bringing her shaking body closer to his frame. He didn't acknowledge how uncomfortable his position on the floor was, but let the woman in his arms hold his attention. The moonlight coming through the windows cast an ire glow over the room and made her soft cheeks glisten as her tears ran freely; seemingly unstoppable. She'd been here for over forty minutes now, but he had no intention of asking her to leave. Her sobs had finally started to calm down, after all.

"Rangiku," he mumbled, face buried in her soft, golden hair. It smelled of strawberries, as was her preference in shampoo, and was as silky and wavy as usual despite her disheveled appearance. A weak, pitiful noise left her in response to her name; something between a whimper and a sniffle of embarrassment. He smiled sadly, knowing he probably made her aware of her situation with that softly whispered name. Continuing carefully, now that he had her attention, he said soothingly; "He did not feel any pain. He said it himself, didn't he? There was nothing you could do, Rangiku."

At his words, her hands clenching his yukata tightened their grip and a new tremor shook her weak body. She knew this, he had a feeling she didn't want him to tell her, but it was what she needed to hear. He had been in a similar situation, although less grave compared to this, and he'd kept blaming himself. It was she, who told him not to, and he hadn't known form the beginning but her repeated words of comfort had helped more than he'd realized at the time. He was sure it was the same for her. Eventually, her warm smile would grace those soft lips once again. He wished for nothing more.

"Rangiku," he repeated sternly as he felt her withdraw from his embrace, "Although he doesn't deserve your tears, it's alright."

She shook her head, a trembling, weak smile stretching across her tired face. "It's enough n-now, I c-can't k-keep on c-crying all night, Captain. T-thank you."

He sighed in annoyance, reaching out to take her hand. She could be such a pain sometimes. "Idiot," he said, all trace of agitation gone from his voice as he gazed upon her face while it turned towards the windows; letting the light caress her skin. Whatever he had  _planned_  to say suddenly seemed irrelevant, and before he could stop himself other words slipped past his lips and made her meet his stare with surprise.

"You're beautiful."

She smiled a small, soft smile – if not the confident, bright he was used to – and leaned in close to his face; her breath mingling with his and making his eyelids droop in pleasure at the familiarity of her action. He titled his head to the side, gazing through half-lidded eyes at her blue, misty orbs – letting their noses brush, and felt her lips graze his gently; hovering teasingly. He sat still, waiting, letting his hand around hers travel up her arm and shoulder to settle on the side of her delicate neck. He could feel her pulse underneath his warm palm; amazed at how quickly its speed increased when he flicked his tongue out to trace her full, glossy lower lip; tasting the melon flavored sticky mess she smeared on despite his occasional complaints. The natural taste of her was so much better than the artificial imitation of his favorite snack.

"Toshiro," she whispered breathlessly, almost with no time to finish his name before he claimed her mouth. The kiss was slow, soft and loving; no matter how much he wanted to devour her he felt as if she was a porcelain doll entrusted in his care, and he could not risk even a scratch on her perfect skin. He needed to coax her back from the world he knew she had locked herself in; he needed to show her what he loved her for and why. With a smirk, despite the circumstances, he noted it didn't take much for her to respond with the heat he recognized. Mind-blowing.

"Thank you," she mumbled against his lips when she broke away from their kiss, dragging him down to the floor. She repeated it, over and over again, as they undressed and touched – kissed, caressed, shared – eventually it became like a broken mantra. He tried, with determination, to shut her up. What the hell was she thanking him for? Growing more frustrated, as his unsated lust and severely stressed mind entered the heights of pleasure, his kisses became more possessive; his touch more rough and demanding. The porcelain doll, so vulnerable, finally cried for more. His hips moved against hers, he thrust as deeply into her as he could; desperate for the connection, the closeness and warmth. And, finally, his name made it through her bruised lips. He captured it, savoring her taste and embracing her tongue with his own; breathing heavily through his nose to prolong the kiss as long as possible. Though, soon, air became an issue once her legs clenched around his waist; her muscles constricting as an orgasm hit. He slid deeper this time, breaking free form the kiss to gasp at the sensation of her heat; her walls pulsating around him and squeezing, begging him for more. He froze, desperately clinging onto the want to continue; fighting the need to fill her completely at this very moment. He wanted to pleasure her – sooth the pain – in any way he could. And as she begged him to move, he gave it his all.

oOo

How very cliché – it was almost ironic.

To gain a life after losing that of an old friend; wasn't that a very  _compromising_  way to view it?

But, Toshiro didn't mind. Because this particular cliché brought peace to his wife, and the happiness he felt by holding their child for the first time efficiently wiped out any comments he might have had about Rangiku's delirious babbling about happy endings and comfort-sex (which, apparently, she wanted more of asap after painfully squeezing out his son) while she rode out the effects of her recent delivery and dosage of painkillers.

Now though, he almost feared for  _his_ life when that of his son and wife no longer was in any danger. Keeping his busty blonde off sake and pleasuring activities these past months (no amount of reassuring had assured him that he wouldn't hurt the baby during the process, much to Rangiku's dismay) was bound to backfire – in the form of a very deprived female.

_How very cliché._

Although, only in the X-rated romance novels  _he didn't read._


	66. Clueless

Toshiro had known her for several years now. He could read her moods, her actions and habits just as well as she could read his. The annoyance she provoked did more good than harm, and he had grown very fond of her eccentric ways. She was as much of an adult as one could be, both in mind and body, but could act so carefree and childish that he found himself envying her as much as he scolded her. They interacted well, friendship and loyalty a certainly. It was as if they'd known each other twice the time they actually had. But he did, however, suspect he knew her all too well. He knew her better than she could ever know him.

The fact that she had yet to figure out why the ink froze each time she dropped by the office with a disgustingly proud looking shinigami from the 8th division (or 5th or  _4_ _th_ or her favorite, the 11th) was proof enough. No matter how hard he tried, the vile, pulsating, burning feeling of jealousy just would not leave. Neither would the clench of his heart, making him discreetly gasp for air due to the pain, whenever her smile was directed towards another man. She was so cruel, flaunting them right before his eyes.

And she didn't even know. She didn't even  _realize._

But he was going to make her see, somehow. He knew she never stayed in a relationship, he knew how she played. He knew the rules, so maybe someday…he could join. And beat her at her own game. There was just so much he could take of these secret, quiet heartbreaks. He wanted to be the one to hold her, kiss her; love her openly. He gathered he had waited long enough. His deprivation was beginning to take their tool and the temptation was so  _great_  whenever she embraced him, kissed his cheek or squeezed his hand. There is a small line between friendship and love after all, and he wanted to deal the nudge that would push her over…far over that annoying line.

He reasoned he didn't ask for much, so why should she deny him entry to her game? All he wanted was for his feelings to be returned.

….and maybe he wanted to get that stack of paperwork underneath the couch done by tomorrow too.


	67. Misguided

"…and so, I found myself in this  _huge_   **spinning wheel!**  It was amazing! I mean, it was a  _wheel_  with these pink and baby blue  _carriages_  and couples were all over each other!" Matsumoto excitedly told a very uninterested looking boy. Unhampered by her companion's lack of response, she restored to hugging the very air out of his lungs. "I told you, you should've come! The view was lovely, one could see the horizon and it was just so _cool_  and, Captain, it was so  _romantic_  when the wheel stopped at the highest point for the couples! If you'd been with me it would've stopped for me too! Why are you always such a spoilsport Captain? It would've been so fun!"

Now, in any normal situation, a sugar-high rant like that would've been interrupted by scratchy, sarcastic remarks or sudden outbursts of annoyance. This was however no normal situation, since the deliverer of said interruptions had his face pushed far between two soft mounds, securely silencing anything coming out of his mouth and reducing it to angry and desperate muffles. When she did let go, it was a slight exaggeration for her to think hell broke loose; she realized that "hell 

froze over" was a better choice of words when the tips of her damp, strawberry-blonde hair turned frosty.  _I should've brought an umbrella,_ she mused with a pout, fingering locks of her stiff hair and effortlessly ignoring the huffs and puffs and angry shouts from the cause of her rising discomfort in her light summer dress.  _Geez, how can he be cute in that shade of red?_

"Aww, Captain, take it easy!" she interrupted somewhere in between  _'why the hell are you always annoying_ _ **me**_ _'_  and  _'what were you trying to do,_ _ **kill**_ _me?!'_. "All that blood up your head…you'll hurt yourself if you're not careful!"

With a small smile and twinkling eyes, she dragged him close and gently caressed his cheek with her left hand as he stuttered, letting the other trail down his arm to his waist, where she snuck a finger inside the hem of his pants. Leaning in close, she whispered hotly in his ear. "Let me guide the blood elsewhere,  _Toshiro-kun."_

He found her concern for his wellbeing quite pleasurable.

 


	68. Cooling Advances (Tattoos part 3)

Hitsugaya Toshiro was getting quite desperate. He had tried almost every trick in the book, and nothing had worked so far. He had been subtle; 'accidentally' bumping into her friends and dropping 'comments' that might provide him with a clue. He'd tried to seem like he knew, like he had an idea and wanted a confirmation on the matter. Which was true, to a degree. He knew she had one, he knew where, he knew it was supposed to affect him in either a negative or positive way, but he didn't know what it was and no matter how hard he tried to tell himself it wasn't a big deal…well, it didn't work. He had to find out.

So, after having spent a week in denial Toshiro decided it was time for a different approach. He'd have to stop beating around the bush and attack the cause. So the next time he saw her, he made sure to have picked up enough courage to pull this through. But he couldn't shake off the feeling this was going straight to hell, along with his pride. But he had to find out.

"Ah good day Captain! I don't understand how you can't stay locked in this office when it's such nice weather outside," the person responsible for his situation exclaimed as she entered the room. He bit his tongue and took a deep breath; congratulating himself for knowing the woman well enough to be prepared. Well, at least for the first line in their conversation. What came after was always a mystery, no matter how hard he tried to find a structure in her thoughts.

"It's too hot for me, Matsumoto," he said, making a pause. Unaware of the quick glance she received, Rangiku flipped down on the couch and stretched; waiting for him to scold her. So what he said next almost made her fall to the ground.

"In fact, it's too hot in here too. I think I need to get cooled down or this pile of gibberish will never disappear. Care to join me?"

Now, Rangiku didn't think he was entirely aware of how that sounded but her lips still parted in wonder. It sounded suggestive, yet he looked all work and no play. Which should make him a dull boy according to the saying, but his proposal was anything but. She suspected he had ulterior motives, but how could she refuse him?

"Sure Captain!" she agreed, smiling. Toshiro exhaled a mental sigh of relief and desperately tried to fight down the blush he knew was blooming on his cheeks. He had known this was an offer his lazy Lieutenant wouldn't say no to, but he was also pretty sure she wasn't expecting the cooling down to be what he had planned. She was probably already deciding what flavour her ice cream would be, and debating on where the best shade was.

"Let's get going then, I want to get back here as quickly as possible," he said while standing; trying to sound natural and not stray too far from his character. Considering what he was going to do, it was kinda pointless but Matsumoto seemed oblivious.

"Mmm where to Captain?" she asked as they walked down the corridor, making a left turn and heading towards the open yard leading outside the divisions' area. Toshiro stiffened and picked up his pace slightly, not quite sure what to respond.

"You'll see," he finally mumbled, avoiding her suspicious looks and thoughtful hums. As the sun burned at his black robes he started to wish he'd taken the long way to their destination since it involved a few more shadows, but all he could do now was curse under his breath and wipe his forehead every now and then.

"Hey, Captain," Rangiku said after a while, curious of this strange behaviour. "Is something wrong?"

Toshiro swallowed and kept his eyes trained on the road before him, quick to answer; "No, why are you wondering?"

"Well," she drawled, crossing her arms behind her back and casually titling her head, "remember last time we went somewhere during work because you wanted to?"

Seeing the blush on his cheeks, Rangiku presumed he hadn't forgotten and didn't wait for a verbal answer before continuing.

"Yes well that's why I'm asking. This only happens when you're up to something Captain and you're pretty bad at hiding it," she explained, grinning at the change of expressions on his face.

"Matsumoto, I know I'm going to regret saying this but you think too much sometimes," he growled while picking up speed again. Rangiku tagged along with a wide smile and cheerful giggles.

"Hey that's my line Captain!" she cooed, making Toshiro wonder for the umpteenth time why he went through this just to satisfy his curiosity. Then he remembered; that damned tattoo.

Finally closing up to the place he was taking the loud mouthed Lieutenant of his, Toshiro had to tug at her sleeve to get her moving. She had dropped dead in her tracks when she'd realized where they were going, and walked as if in a trance as her Captain pulled at her arm.

"Come on Matsumoto, I don't have all day," he growled with a deep blush creeping up his neck and cheeks. It was incredibly warm and he was getting very nervous; but annoyance and the need for something cold made him pretty desperate to hurry up.

"Shinigami's….Health Land?!" Rangiku exclaimed in shock, staring at the building in the distance with utter disbelief. Toshiro rolled his eyes and tugged once more at her slack arm; making her stumble a bit as she tried to keep up.

"Yes Matsumoto," he said in a tight voice, "it's incredibly hot outside and I am dying for something to cool me down."

She didn't respond, only kept on staring in wonder.

"What, you don't like it?" he drawled, raising a brow. "You can always go back to the office and finish the paperwork."

Rangiku snapped out of her stunned state and laughed nervously, shaking her head. "Nonono, of course not! This was a great idea Captain! But…"

For the first time in ages, Matsumoto actually looked anxious and embarrassed at the same time. Toshiro grinned, having an idea why she seemed to be so bothered. If the tattoo was on her hip, and they were going to take a bath, then how was she supposed to hide it? This had been his plan all along and it was working. She'd taken the bait twice; agreeing to leave the office and following it through.

As they reached the familiar booth for the cashier, he allowed himself a mental pat on the back for his brilliance.

"Bath for two please," he said to the woman behind the glass, receiving a sweet smile before she turned her attention to his Lieutenant.

"I'm sorry, but the kids have to stay with their guardians," she explained the blonde who, right now, was fidgeting and nervously biting her lip. Toshiro sighed in annoyance. They'd been here before and he didn't have the energy to argue. He'd seen Matsumoto in all kinds of revealing outfits; there weren't much left to surprise him really. And Matsumoto…she must've seen a lot of men in her time. So what was the problem?

"Yeah, sure," he said, fighting down another blush. "Just take the money and keep the change."

Blinking, the woman watched as the short white-haired kid dragged his mother – or perhaps older sister – along. She shrugged and collected the money he'd slammed onto the table, fanning herself as she cursed the heat. Really, she'd give anything to get a cooling bath herself.

Inside, Toshiro had already gotten out of his clothes and wrapped a (entirely too short) towel around his hips and made his way to the colder pools in the large health department. He'd decided he wasn't desperate enough to glance at his Lieutenant while she was undressing to find out what she'd put on her hip. So, while sinking down in the blissfully cooling water he allowed himself a smug smirk. This particular pool was empty with the exception of him, and soon Matsumoto, which relieved him some of the humiliation. He didn't want to think what people would say if someone recognized him.

"Already in Captain?" he heard her say, breaking the silence. He looked up and immediately looked away; cheeks heated up once again. Nothing but her hair covered her breasts now and the white towel around her hips was as small as his. He heard her giggle and felt her enter the water; distracting him. He looked over to her again and noticed she was already waist-deep in water. Biting his tongue, he tried to keep from shouting a loud curse in annoyance. Whatever word had tried to get out he suddenly choked on as something bluish reflected in the water where her hips were currently swaying. Moving towards him, Toshiro realized he'd been staring quite intently on her left hip in order to make out what it was he'd seen just above the towel's edge. He shook his head and looked up in her amused eyes; alarmed by the smile on her lips.

"So that's what you were after Captain," she said, now right beside him and leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"Trust me, you don't want to know Captain," she mumbled, tracing his collarbone with soft fingers. "So just forget about it, no?"

If she'd tried to convince him he didn't want to know, then it had been quite the opposite. Watching her swim back to the other side of the pool, Toshiro was very, very determined to find out.


	69. Story of my life, she said

Family…what's with family? Why is it so important to you all? It's just a bunch of people, living together, isn't it? I don't see why it's such a big deal. It's easier without one. You're free, and I, I have always been free. I don't need a family - I don't need  _anyone_. No one wants me anyway, so why should I long to be one of them? Those families…they only live together; share a house, share their lives. I don't want to share mine. I've already died, and I can't even remember how, so why should I share this second chance with anyone but myself? I'm free, free to do whatever I want. I don't need anyone, I don't want anyone. Leave me alone.  _I'm free._

But–

" _When's your birthday?"_

" _I don't know…"_

" _Then…let the day we met be your birthday."_

–I'm not the only one.

oOo

 _Is that who I think it is?_  No, it can't be, can it? He's just a child!  _I had a feeling he'd do well._  But not that well!  _Though,_   _he has strong eyes. Cold._ Like my own.  _Ice._

oOo

The kid's different from last time.

I wouldn't have guessed he'd be this distant. So professional, so uptight. It's all no-nonsense. He needs to loosen up, that boy. He's nothing like I remembered him.

Noisy; obnoxiously cocky. A short, unkempt child of the nicer part of the slums.

I guess with the Captain's cloak on, he needs – have to be – someone else.

_He's alone._

oOo

_Gin._

Sometimes, I just wish I wouldn't care. I thought I was free. I thought he'd left me enough times, that I was independent. I never realized that I never expected him to leave for good.

I just wish I wouldn't care.

Then, I would've said I'm lucky, because my Captain was betrayed – by family. By someone he'd shared his life, his house with. But I, I was supposed to be the free one.

" _Idiot."_

" _Who is?"_

I am.

oOo

Family…what's with family?

I don't know. I thought I never had one, and perhaps I didn't, because I lost it before I realized it had been there. I don't know how precious it is, or why. There was never someone who sang lullabies, who rocked me to sleep, who lend me their shoulder to cry on, who told me everything would be alright and who gave it all to protect me from the harsh world. I only learned how to survive on my own, to sleep alone, to fight to protect myself and to wipe my own tears.

_I only know of lovers, of friends and enemies._

"I love you, Rangiku."

_You grew up so fast, Captain._


	70. In Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired and based on the song "Competition" by Dragonette. Warnings for infidelity.

" _Ah, that's never going to work," he says frowning._ She absently wonders if the girl knows where he is tonight. She doubts it. And the kid calls herself his girlfriend!  _She gives a dazzling smile. "Oh, it will Capt'n!"_

Well, she had never imaged he would be the two-timer kind of man, so she suppose she can't blame the girl for trusting him so completely.  _He sighs. "It's physically impossible woman!"_

But , she muses, he isn't  _really_  cheating. He's just too nice for his own good, unable to deny his childhood friend what she wants. And she, herself? – well, she wasn't that concerned about it.

" _You'd be surprised at how well I bend, Shiro-chan." Her coy grin lures him closer._  It's her bed he returns to, and it's her he welcomes everywhere; be it in his girlfriend's room or the office.  _"Oh…" His expression is one of disbelief and wonder, while his blood quickly travels south._

But really, she thinks, it's getting ridiculous. Trips to all her favorite restaurants, new jewelry, his hand taking hold of hers every now and then in _public._  She knows it's just a matter of time before the secret is out, and her Captain will suffer worse than he would if he'd just broken up with his childhood friend the moment he kissed his lieutenant.  _And_   _by now,_   _his hands are shaking ever so slightly._

" _You are going to be the death of me, Matsumoto Rangiku."_

 _Glowing in feminine pride, she giggles. "Breathe sweetie, breathe."_  She remembers vaguely wanting to tell his girlfriend what he's up to. She really doesn't like this secrecy.  _He growls, predatory. "Shut up."_

She wants to be fair competition with his girl, even if this secret mistress thing is very exciting, and forbidden.  _"Easy love, or we'll fall off." Her hands are on him, trying to keep him steady._ She knows that she's never particularly cared if the men she's bedded have had someone at home waiting.  _The hands stray from their original task._  But she finds herself wishing her Captain would realize what he's doing.  _Letting out a delighted purr, he loses control._  It doesn't suit him.

She forgets why she should care. She sees, feels, only him. She doesn't even notice that the seconds, minutes, have passed by.  _He stretches, satisfied. "I had never imagined that would work." She smiles lazily, winking. "Oh, but I can work magic with my body, Captain!"_ And she wonders when the secret will be out.  _He blushes._

They were being pretty loud, after all.


	71. Was it Happily Ever After?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired/based off of the song "Kiss the Kids" by Tanya Stephens. Lovely song.
> 
> (This is an AU in which Azien never happened).

When she had gone to bed last night, she had not known what was coming. Even now, she couldn't remember picking up any signs that could've prepared her. As it was, she had woken up to an empty bed with only a note left as a trace of his presence by her side.

Their children – sweet, innocent beings – would cry. They'd shed the tears she would not. She was so angry, she was livid. He had lied to her, left her alone with no one to rely on. It was early in the morning, and several hours before her children would stir. She needed to get away; she needed to collect the strength she knew she would need to deal with this.

She only knew of one place to go.

oOo

She had drunk herself to unconsciousness again. He sighed, wondering what her good-for-nothing husband had done now to make her crash in the office. Since her first child, she had only taken to saké when she'd been in a fight or when it was a special day. Which, he noted, today was not.

"Oi, wake up! The couch isn't a—" he paused, hand on her shoulder about to shake her awake, and stared at her face. Her eyes were half-closed, brimmed with tears, and her skin almost sickly pale. He felt her shake under his touch.

"O-oi, Matsumoto!" he stuttered, falling down to his knees in order to come closer. "What happened?"

As if his words, his voice, had broken a dam, a pitiful wail passed her lips. He smelled no alcohol as she flung herself at him, arm going around his neck and face pressed against his shoulder to hide the anguish barely concealed. Her tears flowed free, her sobs broken and desperate. He could only stare blankly ahead, completely dumbfounded. In all the years, the decades, he had known her…never had she cried like this. Never had her eyes held such pain clear in sight.

"Matsumoto?" he began, carefully, placing his hands on her back. Her grip of him tightened.

"He left! How could he?! I don't understand, Toshiro!" she wailed, her voice muffled by his shoulder. "What kind of man is he, when he leaves his family? He lied to me, Toshiro! He said he wouldn't leave again!"

Disbelief marred his face for a second before his expression darkened into burning fury as he realized what she'd said. He always knew that man would do more harm than good, but he had never dared to say so. How could he, when biased due to feelings a Captain should not have for his Lieutenant? Now he wished he had done so, a long time ago, because perhaps that would've made a difference. Right now though, the crying woman in his arms needed more attention than his stupid self.

"Rangiku," he said in a hushed, soothing tone. "It's alright. I'm here for you." He slowly stood, taking her with him, and sat himself down on the couch; arranging her to sit in his lap. When her cries only rose in volume, he began to rock back and forth in a calming motion while whispering words of comfort in her ear. He lost track of time, but soon, her wails reduced to broken sobs and the death grip she had of his neck loosened. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to nuzzle her soft, thick hair as she struggled to take long, deep breaths in order to calm down.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, pushing away from him enough to meet his gaze. Shaking his head, he replied, "It's not your fault."

Nodding, she let her head rest against his shoulder once again. One of her hands dropped from his neck and he spotted a badly wrinkled piece of paper in her balled fist. She didn't protest when he reached to get it, and when he paused for her permission she nodded. He unfolded the note with one hand, frowning in concentration. It finally opened.

He read;

" _Baby, I'm gone, so, kiss the kids for me, would you? Get through this for me._

_Apologize, and tell a couple of lies for me baby._

_Tell them daddy said hi._

_Gin."_

He quickly crumpled it again, biting the inside of his cheek to keep quiet. How could this man consciously be alive, when his –  _breathtakingly beautiful –_  wife cried in her Captain's arms? When his children had yet to wake? Hugging her close, he suppressed a growl. She needed support now, and he would give it. He no longer had the appearance of a boy, he had finally grown into a man, and he found himself grateful of the strength in his longer limbs as he stood with his Lieutenant in his arms.

"I'll take you home," he mumbled. "I'll help you deal with this, Rangiku."

Her grip of him tightened and she nodded silently, still fighting the broken sobs shaking her body.

"Thank you, Toshiro."


	72. Cute Captains

If it wasn't for the saké, and the amusing company this woman made, Shunsui would've wandered off long ago. But there was something charming and genuinely beautiful about this young female that sat with him. Well, that and the fact that she held her liquor as well as he did, and he was sure he'd had quite a few more centuries practice than her.

But, he mused as he took another sip of alcohol,  _she is so loud._

"And then, you know, he told me I couldn't lie on the couch! Why is it even in the office if you're not allowed to use it, huh? The kid seriously needs to loosen up!" Matsumoto Rangiku whined, waving the bottle of sake in her hand around to get her point across, whatever that was. As she paused to take a deep gulp of liquor, Shunsui took the chance to speak up. She hadn't given him an opportunity to say a word after he asked about her new Captain, one child prodigy Hitsugaya Toshiro.

"You will have to excuse him, Rangiku-chan," he said with a smile. "It's not easy to be a Captain at his age!"

He wished he hadn't said anything, because her pout was deviously taunting in its drunken, innocently childish appearance. Her lips were full – glossy and inviting – and the pink tint of her cheeks, the messy state of her medium-length, wavy, blonde hair made quite a sight. He may be several centuries older than her, and one of the most powerful Captains, but in the end, he mused, he's just a man.

He had no doubt that in all her joyful and friendly self, she was quite the heartbreaker.

"That may be so," she mused aloud, tapping a finger against her lower lip. "But, you know, it's not easy to be a female lieutenant either, but you don't see me making other's life miserable!"

He chose not to comment on that, knowing too well of what rumors went around about her. She seemed oblivious to the fact that unlike the world outside, fooling around with the wrong kind of men had its consequences.

"Well anyway," she continued, "I did try to spike his tea today you know."

"Oh?" He wasn't that surprised.

"But," she put the bottle of sake down, running her finger along the edge of the opening, "he's just too cute, y'know. Those big eyes and that white hair! Completely adorable, I tell you! Especially when I hug him, yeah, 'coz then he goes all red!"

 _Ah_ , he thought, _if only my Lieutenant would be like that._

He poured another glass of saké for good measure, before going back to admire the way her chest heaved as she rambled on.

What? He's a healthy male, and he was going to have a talk with the new Captain of the 10th division about taking advantage of females' natural soft side for cute things. He did not believe the kid was completely innocent in getting Matsumoto Rangiku to hug him close to those soft mounds.

_He was quite surprised to find he was wrong, and he felt the slightest twinge of guilt for having had that conversation with the young Captain who was, he had to admit, quite cute._

Oh well, life goes on.


	73. Tattoo - Revealed (Tattoos part 4)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last of the Tattoos drabbles.

This wasn't really what he'd expected. Nothing would've really prepared him for the turn of events that landed him in this situation, except for perhaps the knowledge he had about the reason he was here in the first place (really, he should know by now anything can happen when  _she's_ involved). He reached out, tracing his finger along smooth, silky skin as his eyes followed his digit. He found he didn't have much to say, but as he looked up to meet her eyes, he forced a few jumbled words out of his mouth; expression still one of bewilderment.

"I, uh, that is…um…w-why?"

_**o-Five Hours Earlier-o** _

"It was really nice of you to take me here, Captain!" Matsumoto Rangiku chirped happily as she walked down the road beside a very grumpy looking Captain. After all he'd gone through, after all his troubles, he  _still_  hadn't found out what that damned tattoo was! Not even after taking her to Shinigami's  _freaking_  Health Land! He was still blushing after what had transpired in there, even if it had been just like any other teasing by his Lieutenant. Only this time,  _they had been clad in nothing but towels._

"We should do this more often, don't you think?" she continued, flinging her still damp hair behind her while smiling. He growled, very displeased and about as stoic as a cat whose fur had been rubbed the wrong way.

The seething summer day was no longer unbearable, with the chilly breezes cutting through the hot air easily. He huffed; disgruntled to know his temper could be made so obvious.

"Aw, don't be like that Captain -- I know, let's have some ice-cream!" At her bright idea, her smile seemed to double in its intensity. He rolled his eyes, knowing full well she was doing her best to keep him from trying anything else in order to find out her little secret. However, right now, he couldn't bring himself to care. He found he was pretty tired; too angry, embarrassed and disappointed to leave any energy to much else. He let himself be dragged away by his over-energetic Lieutenant.

He decided to deal with her tattoo after work today, and when he came to this conclusion, he was already by the ice-cream stand and paying for whatever it was the annoying woman had ordered.

_**o-Five Hours Later-o** _

She was asleep on the couch again. He had finished everything for today, and currently he was putting away documents and clearing his desk. He did so in silence, glancing over to the couch every now and then. She had worked well today. 'Well' by her standards, anyway. He snorted, closing the upper drawer of his desk with a soft thud. Straightening, he stood still for a while, looking around the office to see if there was something he'd forgotten. All lights but one was out, his desk was empty, hers was too, all teacups were cleared away and his chair was pushed in neatly by his desk. Nodding in approval, he made his way over to the couch and its occupant. His gaze softened at the sight that greeted him, and his shoulders lost some of their tension. He couldn't understand how she could look so very comfortable in a hard piece of furniture like that, in an office nonetheless. Sighing, he carefully sat down, twisting his upper body slightly to gain a better view of her. He knew he should wake her, but like so many other nights like these, he chose to let her sleep for just a few more minutes, if only to inspect her face without having to worry about masking his expression. However, this time, he found his gaze wandering downward – past her straight, feminine nose, her full lips, sharp chin, elegant neck, outrageous breasts and flat stomach; landing on curvy hips. His eyebrow twitched as he fought not to acknowledge the blush creeping up his neck to color his cheeks.

"I can't!" he hissed, trying to shove the idea that had emerged far into the back of his mind. Glaring at her hip for a few more seconds, he finally looked away to huff in annoyance; blush deepening as he found he was unable to block the thoughts going through his mind.

"It's not  _that_  important," he mumbled to himself, eyes narrowed and focused on a point beyond the door of the office. "She's asleep; it would be to take advantage. I can't."

 _But_ , a voice whispered,  _if she's asleep, how is she to know what you do?_

"No!" he hissed, biting his lip hard to calm down. Disturbed by his own thoughts, he was also confused by his reactions today. What had changed? Why couldn't he look at her, without that weird, embarrassed feeling unsettling his whole being? And why, why was it so important to know what this tattoo was? What could possibly it  _possibly_  be to cause such problems for him? He wanted to know, he wanted to know so badly.

Turning back to face the still sleeping woman, his eyes narrowed in determination. She would never find out, he would never tell. He would look for the  _tattoo,_  he would do  _nothing_ else. Shaking hands reached for her uniform, but paused as he tried to make them steady. Swallowing, he continued and carefully pulled at her obi. She groaned, and he almost jumped up from the couch. When she showed no signs of waking just yet, he resumed; heart beating loudly. With little fuss, he had managed to untie the knot and was already sliding a finger inside the hem of the uniform's fabric; slowly, carefully sliding it down her hip. Revealing flawless skin inch by inch, he felt himself break into cold-sweat. This was  _so wrong._  It was horrible; so why was he feeling…excited? He was  _disgusting._

The slightest hint of blue became visible just as he was about to stop, and the want _, the need_ , to know took over. He continued to slide the fabric down, leaning in closer to study the design which slowly made itself visible.  _Scales,_  he noted. Blue, glittering, icy scales.

_Is it—?_

He almost screamed in surprise when a hand suddenly gripped his; halting any further progress. Heart beating so hard he was sure it was trying to jump out of his ribcage; he turned his head to meet blue eyes with his own teal; wide in surprise. The constant blush on his cheeks went from light pink to dark red as he realized she was fully awake, and he fought the urge to look away in shame.  _She wasn't supposed to wake._

Her husky, sleepy voice broke the silence. "Captain, whatever are you doing, taking advantage of a woman in her sleep like that?"

He stared, unable to speak, and she slowly sat up with a wry smile twisting her lips. Her hand squeezed his and she titled her head, observing him. He swallowed, trying to moisture his dry throat; wondering if a few flash steps would take him sufficiently far away from this situation.

"Oh, honestly, Captain!" she exclaimed after a few seconds of silence, and he feared she'd read his mind, but then she continued; her cheeks lightly tinted pink and fascinating him like nothing else. "You must be really desperate to know, huh?"

He would've nodded, if he'd really paid attention, but he was too busy trying to understand what she was  _doing._ She let go of his hand, sitting up and scooting further up the couch. She paused to capture his eyes, and nervously cleared her throat.

"First off, Captain, I was drunk. Very drunk. And I – well, I kinda like it, okay? The tattoo, I mean. Well, uh, I like being drunk too y'know, but, ah, well, you know what I mean," she babbled, giggling and scratching her head sheepishly. When he still could not respond, she sighed and continued. "So, I'm going to show it to you now, okay? But you have to promise to not…I don't know…freak out, okay?"

 _That didn't sound very good_ , he mused, but he made no comment and only nodded his head; far beyond curious. He was  _obsessed_. It was the only explanation.

"Alright," she said a bit too happily, and his eyes immediately fell from her face to stare at the patch of skin revealed already. Her hands went down to grab the fabric, and she pulled it down faster than he had attempted to, and as she struggled with it she twisted her lower body ever so slightly to make her bared hip more visible. The light shifted, and the inked image on her skin seemed to come to life for a second. He stared, mouth open in amazement.

_Hyōrinmaru!_

He could hardly believe his eyes. The dragon was portrayed as a sleek, graceful beast; his scales shimmering in the weak light of a lone lantern. It curved around her hip, its body continuing down in smooth movements, probably gracing her thigh as well. Had he not been so fascinated by the way the dragon's scales complimented her skin so well, he might not have noticed the carefully hidden kanji embedded in the dragon's skin.

_Hitsugaya Toshiro._

He traced it, mouthing it in utter astonishment. The notion of him touching her skin did not register as he looked up to meet her eyes.

"I, uh, that is…um…w-why?"

She smiled shyly, trying to cover up her embarrassment with the stretching of her lips and a nervous giggle. "Oh, spur of the moment perhaps?"

He frowned, the shock and embarrassment ebbing away. "Please, don't lie to me Matsumoto."

She sighed, closing her eyes for a second, before meeting his gaze with a more genuine smile. "It was so long ago a man made me stutter and blush. So long ago, that I can't even remember." He frowned as she paused, waiting for her to continue; curious. "But here I am, silly me, with a man too inexperienced to catch on. I need to spell it out. Ah, such embarrassment you cause me Captain!"

Her laugh was lighter this time, heartfelt, and he found himself blinking in slight surprise. Before he could say a word, she resumed. "Why do you think a Lieutenant would tattoo their Captain's zanpaktou on her hip, along with his name? Why do you think she would hide it, and blush when it's mentioned?"

Clearing his throat, he fought in vain to keep his blush at bay. He felt stupid, and even more so when he opened his mouth to confirm it; it was too obvious, but he couldn't help it.

"Do you love me?"

She smiled, leaned in, and captured his dry lips; moistening them with a wet kiss.

He took that as a yes.


	74. Black Lace

She was lying in his bed, again. Breathing softly, making so little noise he would've thought no air reached her lungs, if not for the steady rise and fall of her impressive bust. Sometime during the night, she'd pushed down the sheets to her bare feet, and her nightgown had ridden all the way up to her stomach through all the twisting and turning she'd done. It had been quite the sight to come home to, and he had gladly lied down by her side; any trace of sleepiness gone as he enjoyed the woman before him. Letting his hand slip down her stomach to finger the hem of her panties, he traced the delicate flowers with an expression of interest, if not a slight bit of wonder. The fine threads were woven in elegant curves, connecting in a teasing net of even thinner strands that barely covered the soft skin underneath. He sighed, noticing as his eyes followed the tip of his fingers that the decorative flowers covered what he really wanted to see. It seemed this was designed to tantalize, and he marveled at the reaction it caused in him.

He'd seen her naked countless times, so why did he always fail to remember how beautiful she was just when he needed it? Her revealing outfits and challenging lingerie should leave little to imagination. But he knew, always, that fantasy was no match for reality. His hands itched to rip the fragile net of threads apart; fingers twitching against her hip when he tried to fight the urge. As he was trying to decide if he should satisfy the growing need for her, or leave her undisturbed in her sleep and join in, the woman before him made the decision for him. Stormy, blue eyes fluttered open; focusing on his face immediately, as if she on instinct knew where he was. Sighing, he leaned up to place a soft kiss on her forehead in apology, smiling slightly when strands of her messy hair tickled his lips.

"Like what you see?" she mumbled, voice husky from sleep, as she reached up to wrap her elegant arms around his neck. Nose to nose, he stared into her eyes, detecting the mischievous glint in them despite the dim light of a full moon. "Yes, very much so, Rangiku," he replied with a grin, voice as quiet as hers, spoken in a lazy drawl. She wriggled her nose against his, a breathy giggle caressing his skin, before pulling him down to lie beside her instead of above. He didn't mind, rolling to the side with only a slight grunt at the change of position as he pulled the covers over them. Running his hand through her thick, blonde locks, he sighed in contentment; letting his short nails scrape her scull to pull those cute noises of pleasure from her plump lips. Her eyes slowly closed when he continued his slow caresses, and she snuggled closer to his warmth with an amused hum.

"Why didn't you do anything? They're your favorite, aren't they?" she said, soft voice slightly mumbled against his skin as she tucked her head under his chin. Raising a brow in confusion, he was about to ask what she was talking about when she answered. "My panties, sweetie, my panties."

Chuckling, he titled his head to place a kiss on top of her head. "You're impossible. Don't tell me that was intentional!"

"And if it was?"

"Then you're not only impossible, but a damn tease as well."

"I love you too, honey."


	75. Rash

It itched, but he stubbornly refrained from scratching it, knowing that the temporary pleasure a good scratching would bring was nothing but just that; temporary. So he continued to scribble away letters and numbers on the increasingly less blank paper before him, ignoring his discomfort with practiced ease. He'd had worse than tonight, so it wasn't surprising that he managed to push away any thought of the intense itching out of his mind in favor of work, hoping it would go away eventually. From previous experience he knew it wouldn't, but that didn't keep him from trying anyway in case this time would be any different.

But he refused to acknowledge the true longing he felt for some kind of release, and if it frustrated him that the location of the rash was not anywhere he could scratch, should his resolve break, he didn't let it show. Although, when a crack marred that stoic façade, it was almost always (he added the 'almost', because he didn't like the idea of her being the only one with that kind of power) his lieutenant's fault and she never failed to notice. Blaming his foul mood on an itch, which was as much of the truth he would admit, he never told her where it was once she offered to scratch it. He was tempted to say she would never find it, but he really didn't mind the way she never stopped looking for it despite all his hissing and blushing.

Her long, manicured nails were bliss on his body, and as the itchy incidents piled up, he found himself wondering how she could touch his heart with skin, muscle, fat and bones between, for the itchy discomfort in his chest where the rash was located lessened each time her childish giggles and cheery voice announced she would never give up.


	76. Equations

Matsumoto Rangiku was a strong woman. She knew who she was, what she could and could not do, how to deal with messes she'd made and what to make of the many strange things happening around her on a daily basis. She was no stranger to sin, and she knew very well how to enjoy herself and what to do in order to obtain what she wanted. However, what she wasn't familiar with was to deny herself something she knew with every fiber of her being that she not only needed, but craved. In fact, she was pretty much at a loss of what to do; confusing herself with the many contradicting actions she made as she tried to decide what would be for the best. Should she take it, like she wanted to, or leave it, like she probably should do? She had never really asked herself this question, because what she wanted had always gone hand in hand with either what should be, or what she liked to call "other ways out".

Doing a damage control after each decision that lead to some form of mess, she had always been able to straighten things out. This time, however, she had lived for too long and known too much to not realize that this was not a win-win situation, despite her positive personality. There was such a slim chance to get what she wanted, and if she didn't succeed, something irreplaceable would be lost. Knowing this, it should've been easy to come to the conclusion that she should resist, but she was no masochist and absolutely not a quitter. It was in her nature to give it her all, and, if possible, avoid any kind of ache that would cause her discomfort for a longer period of time. You could say her heart was in conflict with her head, and she didn't like it one bit. She wondered if she was doomed to this for the rest of her existence, and found herself realizing that maybe, there could be a compromise. To not take it all, just enough to keep herself happy through the day, and dull whatever regrets she might have with the smooth alcohol beverage that never failed to keep her company even in the darkest hour. The problem with that was that what she wanted wasn't a place in the Academy this time, nor good grades or the position as a Lieutenant. It wasn't even about the finest chocolate, the most expensive sake, or the most elegant clothes and jewelry. It was about a person, a male – but that wasn't enough, for he was no brawly man of the slums but the one she would gladly give her life to protect. She knew he was confused as it was, with her indecision of what to make of her own feelings, and it bothered her that the otherwise clueless little prodigy Captain (who weren't as little anymore, she had to admit) could pick up on her inner turmoil when he had proved many times to lack certain understanding of the emotional working of his surroundings. She had to add him to the complicated equation of love, for more reasons than him being the culprit who caused the whole mess in the first place.

_So, 2X plus XY equals what? I'm missing the part needed for the solution._

Well, to say that Matsumoto Rangiku had spent way too much time thinking about this would be an underestimation. Her head spun in never-ending circles, thoughts jumbled and slightly desperate as she tried to keep her heart out of the reasoning. Emotions never followed logic after all, and this fact might be one of the things that could help her come to a well needed conclusion. The chances were that she would have to deny herself this one thing, this one person, if only for the sake of his own well being. It wasn't like she didn't want their friendship after all; she had been happy up until recently, hadn't she? Maybe, if she stopped thinking about it, then the feelings would go if not unfelt, then at least unnamed.

_Which would be…2X minus XY, and that would be?_

_It's still incomplete._

This was much too complicated, and she wanted to scream this statement for the world to know. Too bad she was in the office, carrying a tray with scalding hot tea that she did  _not_  want to drop on herself in a fit of rage. Groaning and feeling her eyebrow twitch, she arrived at the culprit XY's desk looking forlorn and thoroughly spent. It earned her a sharp, raised, white brow followed by a question delivered in a voice full of concern. It made her sigh even more defeated.

"Captain, never fall in love. It's a pain in the ass."

That he looked genuinely surprised, curious, puzzled and embarrassed all in one didn't faze her as much as it probably should. She couldn't remember giving him the impression of being incapable of falling in love, and if he jumped to conclusions then it was not her fault. Deciding to spare him any unnecessary pondering, she blurted out the next thing on her mind. "By the way, you're good with maths, right Captain?"

Blinking, he eyed her with an obvious glint of worry in his teal eyes, making her mood a lot brighter. Before he could ask if the sake had finally erased any trace of brain cells she had left and turned her mental, she quickly put the cup of tea down in front of him and smiled. "You see, I remember Inoue and Ichigo's homework and it seemed very complicated for kids like them. Do they really teach that stuff in school? I feel bad for them. Don't you, Captain?"

He shook his head slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose with thumb and index finger. "No, I don't, Matsumoto. I think that it is good. They need it in their world, a lot more so than we do here. You are correct to assume that I know mathematics though, which is only proper, being a Captain. And it concerns Lieutenants as well, I might add."

Giggling, she walked over to claim the couch, enjoying the familiarity of the conversation. "Aah, but I know my numbers Captain! I'm just really bad when they're mixed with letters."

He flashed a rare grin, though the twitch in his cheek told he was torn between amusement at her behavior and annoyance at her ignorance. "Algebra is actually pretty easy, at least the basics of it. You should try and study it; it certainly wouldn't hurt with a bit more logic and knowledge in that empty head of yours," he said, the hesitant grin morphing into a smirk when she started to laugh; shaking her head at his words. "Aw, Captain, that was a low blow!" she said, pausing her chuckling to observe him where he sat, now big enough to not drown behind the huge desk and tall chair. With a mischievous grin, she continued; voice smooth and dripping with a sweet and suggestive tone. "But if you insist I study it, then I must insist on you doing the teaching, Captain. As repayment, I could teach you some things that are not found in the books and scrolls you possess."

She tried to hide the wide grin of satisfaction from showing, but when he flushed red she couldn't help but giggle in delight. Struggling to regain his posture, the white haired Captain quickly looked away and cleared his throat. She really wasn't prepared for his next words, and it was only because of the almost painful leap of her heart that she was unable to utter a gasp.

"If you are to study it, then it would only make sense for me to teach you. We do not have time or money to spare for hiring someone else, and I doubt there is anyone with enough patience to deal with you. I've worked with you for several years and know how to deal with it, so it would be the best choice." His cheeks were a light pink by now, and his eyes flickered around the room nervously. She took a deep breath, calming down a foolish, racing heart as her mind provided her with denial.  _Come now, he means nothing by it._ Assuming he only had her education in interest, she was slightly amused once she realized he'd taken her obviously taunting words seriously. He seemed to misunderstand her amused expression once his eyes finally landed on her and the pink on his cheeks darkened a few shades. Raising a brow, she was about to ask what he was thinking but he quickly cut her off, stuttering and averting his gaze once again.

"I-I won't need any…repayment though, s-so, yeah. B-but, I…" he began, trailing off to clear his throat. "I wouldn't mind."

She stared, eyes wide. A quick glance her way and he seemed to panic. Naturally, his previous nervous manner turned frustrated, because that was just how he best handled embarrassing situations. She knew this all too well, and even now, it brought a smile to her slack lips. "M-matsumoto! I don't mean it like  _that!_  Knowledge is not something to be turned down, and if you have anything  _useful_ to share then I won't mind! I didn't mean it like that! It's got nothing to do with  _that!_ "

Through his surprisingly short rant, she had collected enough stray, confused thoughts and feelings to regain her composure, but she was still at a loss of what to make of the situation. Deciding to do what she did best, she titled her head and smirked. "And what, exactly, do you mean by ' _that'_ , Captain?"

He growled, meeting her gaze with a frustrated glare that inspired none of the fear he wished for. Continuing to observe him, she decided none of them was in control of this strange conversation and it would be safest to leave it behind, if only to hide what she desperately wanted to tell him.

"Hey, Captain, when do we start?" she asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. He sighed, cheeks still red and brows still drawn together in a frown as he replied. "Whenever you want, Matsumoto. But once we decide a time, you will have to promise to be there.  _No skipping_ , understood?"

She nodded, earning herself a suspicious glare, and smiled. Perhaps this was a chance to find the missing part of her frustrating equations, or to, at least, stimulate her increasingly weakening logic-based thinking. "I wouldn't dream of it, Captain! I'll be counting on you to get that mess to make sense!"

His only reply was a snort before he resumed his work, but the sad part was that she really did.

_I hope you won't let me down, Captain._


	77. Delicious Collusions

When temptation stares you in the eye, what do you do?

Matsumoto Rangiku believes that you should jump at it, because, honestly, you only live twice, right?

Hitsugaya Toshiro believes that you should either turn away and put as much distance between yourself and whatever it is that's tempting you, or if there is no place to run, just close your eyes to rid yourself of the sight, because there is this thing called control. You shouldn't allow  _anything_  to take it away from you.

Inevitably, these different opinions would cause quite a collision if put in the same situation. This was proved once the young Captain found himself struggling with unknown feelings only his busty Lieutenant provoked, and the very same Lieutenant found she had fallen for the increasingly growing and maturing teenaged Captain.

oOo

Doomed to spend each day in her presence, Toshiro could not deny the fact that there was something about her that seemed to draw his attention and interest. He could no longer blame her tendency to irritate him, not after finding that there was something more to it than mere annoyance. The frustration she made him feel was not the frustration he experienced with others, and that included many other emotions as well. Many of them made little sense, like the woman herself, and some brought him such embarrassment and horror that he dared not ponder on it for too long. If it had stayed at that, then he would probably be able to deal with it, but it seemed fate liked dealing him the worst cards in the deck, because whenever she smiled the heat in his chest grew stronger, and every time she passed out drunk the ache in every fiber of his being grew more painful. Whatever she had done to make his emotions so disorientated, it was slowly but surely expanding to further influence his body. His reiatsu seemed to physically  _pull_ him closer to her person, while his hands literally  _itched_  to touch whatever he could get away with. There really was no question of what to do, once he realized it all got even worse when she was close by and stared at him with those captivating eyes. Look away, break the gaze, and run.

oOo

For Rangiku it was, quite obviously, different. She would not use a negative word as "doomed" to describe the fact that they held each other company some time during each day a week. Even if it was confusing, even if she was uncertain and it caused her discomfort, she could not find it in herself to dislike any minute she was with the strange young man who had somehow gained such an important place in her heart. It took her a while to decide that it was nothing but  _happiness_  to be around the one she loved, because there was so many who were unable to do so. Yet she was not satisfied, and she would not let her chance to win his interest slip through her fingers when she was blessed with his presence by her side so frequently. So when he ran, she followed with a determination he would admire if he'd take notice. She refused to watch another back walk away from her, thus chased him until a corner would appear, and she'd have him trapped.

oOo

Toshiro realized his pathetic attempt to flee was in vain when he found himself anticipating being found by her as he hid in some dark corridor of the divisions. The excuse of running errands and doing some extra work only took him that far, and it was with slight disgust he admitted that his actions had been utterly childish and painfully obvious. But once he stopped running, he didn't know what to do next. She was too close again, appealing to all his senses, and the pure beauty of her being burned the eyes that seemed determined to etch every detail of her into his mind. He had to look away, but she only moved into sight again. The only option left was to close his eyes, and he tried to convince himself that he welcomed the empty void blindness brought him.

oOo

The first few days, Rangiku was amused. She didn't know how he did it, but he managed to not look at her  _at all_. It quickly grew tiresome, and finally so frustrating she reasoned that if he could play it dirty, then so could she. There was no trace of hesitation when she grabbed his arm and pulled, spinning him around to face her only to trap his face in her hands before leaning in for a kiss that rendered both speechless. The electric sparks that jolted through her body and spiced her reiatsu sent shivers down her spine, yet the contact of their lips had only been a few seconds. It was with a weak smile she pointed out to him that he had finally looked at her again, and that night, the brief kiss didn't leave her mind.

oOo

Toshiro was less amazed by the bold move of the infuriating woman, because not only had she managed to make him realize that going days without really  _looking_  at her – and then being left with no choice but to admire her beauty – had just made things so very, very,  _very_  much worse, but she had also given him another problem to tackle. The  _kiss._  What did it mean? What had it done to him? What had  _she_  done to him and what could he do about it? He couldn't run from it, he couldn't turn a blind eye to whatever it was that was happening. He was at a dead end, with no idea of how to get out. The constant need to kiss her again whenever she was around didn't help either, and he was so close to…to what? Give up? He hadn't realized he was fighting a battle, and he wasn't sure if he could call it one once the idea crossed his mind. If it was, then his control was seriously lacking.

oOo

He was temptation with the capital T, he was temptation on legs; he was everything Rangiku wanted at the moment. The alcohol in her system did nothing to suppress her passionate emotions welling up when he entered the bar to drag her home. It was a rare gesture of him, to come and fetch her during one of her nights out. When she asked for an explanation for his kind behavior, he seemed to snap. Half-way down the street leading them away from the bar, he suddenly stopped to give her a chilling glare. His voice was harsh, loud and so very angry that it left her feeling slightly uncomfortable despite her utter happiness of leaning against his muscled frame without being pushed away. He asked her if she knew what time it was, but before she could reply he told her himself. 7am? She couldn't remember the last time she checked the clock, but she vaguely remembered someone telling her that it was only midnight, and the night was still young, which meant that was around the time she got smashed. She told him as much, earning a rough shake as his hands grabbed her shoulders. Yelling this time, he only managed to speak her name and a few curses in a sentence that fell on deaf ears before she cut him off. His hands were pushed off her shoulders, and she leaning in (but it was really more like  _falling forward_ ) and pressed her full lips against his. Not many thoughts were occupying her head, before or after the second kiss, and she discovered once again why she loved sake so much. She felt no regret for ignoring his concern, because acting on her will and need rather than listening to his words was such  _bliss._

oOo

Toshiro had never been a fan of impulses or whims; most of the time he strongly opposed it, even if it was so terribly endearing when  _she_  did it. The second kiss had been no different, and he was torn between anger and the satisfaction of having a need and craving fed. She had fallen unconscious moments after he'd finally pulled away from the, ironically, intoxicating kiss and woken up in her futon where he'd placed her. Afraid of alcohol poisoning, he'd made a stop by the 4th division first and despite their assurance that she would be alright (he didn't acknowledge the statement that she had been worse after the…betrayal), he had taken her to her rooms and spent the first hours of the morning by her side, should she show any signs of choking on her insides once her body rejected the drugs tainting her blood. A few visits to the office, fetching the most urgent paperwork, he'd made use of her seemingly unused desk for the remainder of the day. When she woke up sometime after lunch the first thing she did was to run into her bathroom, no doubt detecting the aroma of the food he brought with him. He hurriedly followed, arriving in time to see her heave over the toilet. The anger at her behavior and recklessness, combined with everything else she made him feel, was pushed aside for a moment and he tried not to choke on the lump in his throat as he gently gathered her thick, silky blonde locks in his hands and carefully kept it out of the way. He desperately wanted to know what had made her push herself into this state, and the anger returned. Only this time, it was directed at the cause, not the woman groaning in misery before him.

oOo

Having dealt with many, many hangovers throughout the years, Rangiku was no stranger to headaches and the pure misery of existing in a world where such queasy, sick discomfort was possible. But when he got her toothbrush ready for her, carried her back to the futon, fetched her glass after glass of water and disappeared to visit the 4th division for a painkiller that wouldn't kill  _her_ as well, she didn't feel all that bad. He must have noticed her rapidly recovering; because once evening arrived he asked the question she had waited for ever since she realized he was in her rooms. He asked why she had drunk so much and spent such a long time in the bar when she was usually already occupying the office couch by 2am (she hadn't known he knew that she rarely returned home after a night out, but she refrained from inquiring any further in that matter for now). She had no desire to lie to him, hating to beat around the bush, so she told him. She had hoped the get him off her mind, if only for a night, so she could re-boot. It was exhausting, she told him, to win him over when he was fighting so desperately to get away. Not that she minded, she hurriedly added, because it was something she truly desired. His attention, that is, because she couldn't quite bring herself to claim his heart when he stared at her with such wide eyes. The blush on his cheeks when she admitted her interest and intentions, however subtly, was expected. His reaction was not.

oOo

It hadn't been like in all those mushy, romantic stories he'd been forced to listen to through the years. From what he knew, it wasn't the most common, sappy cliché to make the woman in love with you drink herself near alcohol poisoning (he was still determined she had been close to it, because she had spent over  _ten hours_  in a  _bar_ ) because you were on her mind too much, and gave her the impression that her feelings were unwanted. Not even 'the confession', as it was called, held much potential for a tear jerker of a romance. It was simple, but honest. No promises of forever, no passionate love-making, not even a kiss. After her reply to the simple question of why, he had simply been too stunned to utter a word, but the sad, distant look in her eyes prompted him to acknowledge her words. He had been assured several times over that the tears in her eyes were of joy, but he'd instinctively pulled her into an embrace anyway. Fitting snugly in his arms, she had dozed off with a soft smile on her lips that he couldn't stop staring at for several minutes. Then, inevitably, followed a deep and silent pondering of what had happened. He knew enough to assume they would enter a new relationship, having admitted their mutual interest, but it was inappropriate. He was her superior, and she was his subordinate. But they wouldn't be breaking any laws, and if he turned her down, he was sure it would turn out to be one of the more bitter mistakes he'd ever do. Coming to a conclusion, he silently handed himself over to the mercy of the woman in his arms. She knew more of this than he did anyway, and for the first time since this  _mess_  began, he didn't wonder about his next action.

The soft kiss on her forehead came so naturally, he barely spared it a thought.


	78. Fast Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The English version of a Swedish drabble I wrote based off of an old Swedish pop song called "Hon älskar snabbt" by Snowstorm. The title means "She loves fast/quick".

I don't know how long it's been going on, how long it's been there; how long it's been waiting. I'm only aware that it's here now, that she's here. If it wasn't for her, would I ever feel like this? I doubt it, but that's not something to think about at a time like this. Not now, when her arms rest around my neck; when her lips smile and her eyes see me as if I am everything. I hardly notice the people watching as bystanders, I don't care when they express their surprise or distaste. All I feel is her lips on my throat – all I feel is the warmth that spreads from the skin she's kissing to every cell in my body. She knows what she's doing, she knows she's driving me insane; an insanity so intense that it almost suffocates me. I'm more than willing when her fingers grab my collar and drag me along; showing me the way out of this crowded, uncomfortable room. Not a soul is around when she stops outside in the corridor to wrap smooth arms around my neck once again. I lean a bit closer, pulled towards her warmth and I shiver as her mouth brushes my ear.

"It is late," she whispers; her voice quiet and seductive. "Let's go to my place."

I follow, as if in a trance; intoxicated by her touches and glances during the night. Before this I could resist, before this I didn't know. Before this I hadn't tasted her kisses. I can't bring myself to say no now, can't find the will to deny what I need. Not even when I know, that's it's only for tonight.

My clothes are scattered, her room is dark and everything I can see is her; already naked and clinging close to me. I hardly remember how we ended up here; hardly remember anything other than her body close to mine. Warm, wet kisses makes my heart beat fast; her smooth skin underneath my hands excites me. So fragile, so hot, so  _soft_.

Quick, that's the only word I can use to describe this. Quick. I taste her salty skin, feel her wet excitement. Sounds of pleasure, of desire, fills her room while we make love; in, out, kisses and caresses. I feel so warm, so aroused. I need more, want more. She knows, she gives me everything that she can and more so. She's so soft, loves so quickly.

She loves me.

 


	79. Possessive

When you first meet her, you are going to be momentarily stunned by how beautiful she is. Awed, if you will. Her full lips will curve into a smile the moment you address her, because she knows how much courage it took you to even utter a word. The smile will make your cheeks hot, it will be contagious. You cannot hide your intentions, and she knows her own the moment her eyes laid upon you.

Nothing will happen, not unless she wants to. You won't figure this out until it's too late, because her bubbly laughter, easy conversation and warm presence will distract you.

The mole underneath her lip, the thick lashes, and the elegant curve of her neck and the slim length of her legs will escape your notice, and even as she talks, you will not follow completely in the conversation. You will nod, smile, blush and hum. The sound of her voice is what you are going to hear, not the words, and the generous cleavage is what you will see even when you try to keep your eyes on her face. But the focus will not lie on the movements of her lips, because still you will see smooth, tempting flesh just in sight if only your eyes would wander an inch down. She knows, and she will make you squirm as she flips her long, silky hair back and rests her weight slightly on one foot; pushing her chest forward as she takes a deep breath.

You will buy her a drink, because the one she had just ordered before you came is already empty. You want her drunk; you will try to charm this woman, for she seems so unattainable to a guy like you. She is a goal, and you promise yourself that you will reach it tonight.

But, you will realize that she is too easy.

She will accept every drink you buy, she will be moving closer when your hands start to wander, she will continue to smile, and she will talk for the both of you and offer you a dance. You will be excited, because everyone will be looking at you and you have always wanted this.

But, you will be playing straight into her hands.

She will not accept your kiss, she will be turning her head away as you lean closer, and she will not smile, but smirk. She will no longer be talking, because the music is too loud, and she will have nothing to say to you when you try to offer her a place to stay tonight. You will be confused, because everything seemed to go so well and you had been so sure the moment she smiled to your greeting.

I know all of this will happen, even as I watch you approach her in the bar.

I am already on my way over and I am just in time to catch her introducing herself. It is a slight loss, but for this time, I will let you know at least her name. But her beauty, her smiles, laughter and voice – her flirtatious and manipulating ways – her alcoholic tendencies, childish, bad jokes and laziness  _all belong to me._ Her lust,  _her love_ , you will never know.

As I'm walking away, dragging her with me, I try to ignore her smug comments and sly smirk. Ten minutes ago, she left my room with a slam of my door. Five minutes ago, I stopped kicking the pillows she'd thrown at me and I followed her. Now I'm taking her home, and once I wipe the smug look off of her face I will apologize, and she will smile.

Because she is mine, and she will never be yours.


	80. A Different Snow White

__   


_Once upon a time,_  there was a magical mirror. He (for it had a gender, and it was male) was said to be able to answer any question you could possibly ask. Kings and Lords, who wanted advice on warfare and such, offered great rewards for those who would bring the mirror to them. However, it often ended with fake mirrors being presented instead and many gave up hope of ever finding the mysterious object as the years passed.

Meanwhile, during the frantic search for him, the mirror was safely placed on the wall of an old woman's bedroom. He was quite happy there, even if the intellectual stimulation the old granny provided was limited to discussing different recipes and herbs. He also got quite good at crosswords, since she had a habit of asking him for help. But when he got a word wrong, she was surprised to realize that yes, he replied to every question she had, although the answer didn't always had to be a correct one.

A young girl called Momo soon joined the household. She looked slightly older than the reflection in the mirror that represented his face, but the old woman was not fooled, for he had been alive several centuries more than either the girl or herself.

Momo quickly befriended the slightly moody mirror, and the mirror found that he quite liked the lively presence the girl provided. He even let her know his name, which only the old woman knew, and she said she didn't like it. So she called him Snowy instead, because of his white hair and fair complexion.

It was upsetting for the mirror when Momo met and married King Aizen, not only because she was leaving but because she turned him in for His Highness' uses as well. A wedding gift, she said.

The following years became quite dreary, and the mirror found himself locked up in an empty room with little light and nothing but old, worn wallpaper to stare at. It took King Aizen a long time to realize the mirror didn't necessary know the answers to everything, but once he did, he also figured out that the mirror had pretty much been messing up as much as possible for the tyrant of a King.

The mirror soon missed fooling the royal bastard, because it had been his only interaction with someone else than Momo, who had taken to a bad habit of asking him who was the most beautiful in the world. Apparently, she was afraid King Aizen would somehow find her less attractive than yesterday, and so he assured her that indeed, she was the most beautiful. Even when her dear husband told her the mirror didn't always speak the truth, she continued to ask almost every day.

It was making him quite loopy, despite being a magical mirror and all.

So when, one day, the door to his room opened and revealed someone other than Momo or her King, he had trouble containing the maniac grin that spread across his otherwise stiff reflection. It turned out to be the King's new (since the mirror had proven quite useless) advisor's sister, Rangiku. At first he didn't believe her, for he had seen the new advisor with his silver hair and fox-like grin, and she looked nothing like that creepy man. Her golden hair fell in waves, and her lips were full and pulled in a soft smile that made him blush for the first time in years. When she said Mr Fox wasn't her blood-brother, but step-brother, the mirror understood.

She continued to come whenever she had time to spare, and the mirror looked forward to visits, despite her tendency to bring a lot of wine. Her eccentric ways and noticeable intelligence intrigued him, as well as the fact that she never asked any other questions other than inquiring of his health or his day, and sometimes books or food (which he knew a lot about, after his time with the old granny).

The mirror then realized that she didn't really have to ask anything, because he found himself telling her anyway. She even liked his name, but admitted that 'Snowy' suited him as well.

It was easy, having a conversation with her, and he hardly noticed how Momo's visits became fewer and fewer. He didn't really notice until Rangiku told him that she had a message from her that said;

_"I won't be able to visit for a couple of months, but answer this;_

_'Mirror mirror on the wall,_

_Who is fairest of them all?'_

_and tell Rangiku to deliver the answer to me."_

The note had been interrupted by Rangiku's laughter once she read the poem Momo used to pose her question, which had briefly led the mirror to explain how she always asked the same question and had thought it necessary to make it more dramatic. It was then he realized that Momo's absence didn't bother him enough to give her note much thought.

So when he told Rangiku to tell the Queen that she was no longer the "fairest of them all" (he had found a much more beautiful woman, although she did not know of his opinion yet), he didn't really consider the consequences.

It was a good thing that Rangiku fell asleep in his room one night, because otherwise, he would've been nothing but shards of broken glass on the floor. He was surprised to find that Rangiku had quite the reflexes, and not to mention her right hook; Momo was out cold within seconds.

That night he was relocated to another set of rooms that were so much more pleasant, but he was too worried about what would happen to Rangiku once the Queen was found unconscious with a swollen cheek. She assured him it would be alright, and surprisingly, Momo chose to keep silent about the matter on the grounds that she had not known what she was doing, trying to kill her long-time friend. Rangiku just shook her head and downed another bottle of wine, telling him she was glad it was over, and kissing his cheek to leave a red kissmark on the otherwise spotless glass.

It seemed there was a happily ever after before a real story had a chance to begin.

Not that the mirror minded.

 


	81. Rangiku

__   


_Once upon a time,_  there was a couple who lived next door to a fox demon. He had a lovely garden, filled with chrysanthemums in bloom all year round, and the wife always admired them from afar.

But her and her husband longed for a child, and once she got pregnant she had to lie in bed all day long, with nothing but the view of those lovely flowers to gaze upon day and night. Her admiration turned to obsession, and it became so bad that she couldn't live without holding one of those lovely flowers close to her chest and she inhaled its scent.

Her husband, desperate to keep both his wife and baby healthy, snuck into the fox demon's garden one night to snatch a flower, for he dared not take more. Her wife was so happy, and everything seemed alright, until the next day when the wife found the flower wilted despite the wealthy amount of water she had provided with care.

At his wife's wails, cries and declarations of wanting to end her life, the husband returned to the demon's garden. This time, he took a whole bunch of the beautiful flowers, but before he could make his escape, the fox demon himself appeared before him.

"What're you doin', raidin' my garden and destroyin' my priceless flowers?" he said, an eerie grin on his human-like features. The husband fell to his knees, begging for his life; horrified by the flash of red eyes as the demon glanced down on him.

"Very well," he said, tired of the pathetic man's pleads and feeble excuses of his wife. "I'll allow you to live, and provide you with one new flower each day for the rest of your life - if you agree to give your first born to me."

The husband, by now desperate, agreed without second thought.

"Good," the fox demon continued. "You will name her Rangiku, after my beautiful Chrysanthemums, and after the distortion of this event. Now, get out!"

Not needing to be told twice, the man hurried away, absently wondering why the demon seemed to sure his child would be a girl.

A few days later, most of the encounter seemed more like a dream to the man, even as he held his baby girl for the first time. Why would a demon want a child? And a baby at that?

Months passed, and soon a full year had gone. The man had yet to tell his wife about the deal he made, but there was no need, since the demon had yet to arrive he must not want it after all. But, he did.

One night, when the child was two years old, the fox demon arrived at the couple's doorstep. They could do nothing as he took the girl away, and it would be the last time they ever saw her again.

oOo

Years passed, and the rumour of a beautiful young woman locked high up in an unreachable tower spread across the land. It was said the infamous fox demon held her prisoner, hiding her beauty from the world and killing any man who tried to free her. Yet, they still continued to try, for she was said to be the closest to a goddess a human could come. Some even suggested she might be a nymph, or even a demon herself.

But it was far from the truth.

She was human, very human indeed. At times, she would stand by the lone window of her tower and wonder how long time would pass before she hit the ground if she jumped, and if her fox would be angry to find the bed of chrysanthemums underneath crushed by her body. She never did try this out, for she held a surprisingly positive attitude towards life which allowed her to hope that one day, she would be free.

Today, however, was not the day.

"Let down your hair, luv, so I can climb that golden stair," a familiar voice called from the ground. Sighing, Rangiku did as told; flinging her long, long braid out of the window and bracing herself as it fell down. The fox, who frequently reminded her to call him Gin, started to climb. Without the magic embedded in her hair, he wouldn't have been able to get up, and she would, surely, cut it a lot shorter for comfort. But as it was, the hair was stronger than any rope.

Gin's visit this time was short, he merely left her a meal and a few new books. Even when she asked him to stay just a little bit longer, to converse and keep her from going out of her mind, he still left. She tried to grab a hold of his long coat, but he slipped out of her grasp and ceased smiling, for once.

"Sorry, Rangiku, you should've held on a bit tigther."

She guessed she should've, but she was sure he would've escaped anyway.

The hours passed, and the evening turned to night, and the night to morning. Gin didn't come for breakfast. She waited, leaning out of the window and gazing at the horizon with her braid already falling along the stone wall; ready for the fox's return. The growling of her stomach prevented her from noticing the rustling and crunching of the flowers surrounding her tower, but when she felt something tugging at her braid, she finally looked down.

"Gi--" she began, but was cut off short by the sight greeting her. A young man, perhaps a few years younger than she, stood looking up with a curious expression on his pale face. She noticed that his hair had the same unnatural colour as her fox demon, only this stranger's shade was pearly white rather than a light grey. His unnaturally clear, teal eyes were visible even from distance and she wondered if he was, perhaps, another demon. Her suspicions were confirmed when the boy suddenly sprouted wings of cold, blue ice and flew up the tall tower in a matter of seconds.

"What are you doing here?" was the first thing he said, and she wondered if perhaps he was a bit dense as well. One of the stupid demons, maybe?

"Oh, nothing. Just playing the part of a hostage. How about you?" she replied, voice mockingly light as she tried not to laugh at his frown.

"I was told I would find Gin, the fox demon, here. Are you, by chance, his hostage?" the white-haired boy said, sounding slightly irritated. She nodded, curious what business he had with the fox but too thrilled by talking to someone other than Gin that she didn't really care.

"Yes, I am. He comes here to deliver my meals and keep me company for a few hours a day. He hasn't been around much lately though, and didn't bring any breakfast so I'm really starving. Oh, but never mind, where are you from? What's your name? What kind of demon are you? Is that  _real_ ice? My God, it  _clings_  on you! Say, you wouldn't have any sweets on you, no? I could really use something to eat, but---"

"---Look, lady, just tell me in which direction he went and I'll promise to free you, get you some food, and bring you home, alright? Do we have a deal?" he interrupted before she could continue her ramblings. She didn't usually talk this much nonsense, but to her excuse, she had to say that it was her first time having an actual conversation with an outsider. Usually, Gin killed them before they could even greet her properly.

"Deal," she said after a few moments, coming to a conclusion that she would be terribly stupid if she turned down this offer, even if he probably didn't intended on keeping his part of the deal. "He went east."

"Thank you," he said before leaving in a swish of icy wings. She watched him disappear into the forest with a sigh, only now realizing that there was a chance he was after Gin to kill him, and if he did, no one would come and give her food or company. She would be dead within a few days.

"Damnit."

oOo

Because the white-haired boy with the wings is a person of moral and with a kind heart beneath all that cold ice, and because the Happily Ever After was decided before this story was written, Rangiku, named after the Chrysanthemum she resembled, didn't die.

Before dawn, the boy whose name she learned was Toshiro returned and helped her down to the ground. She managed to persuade him to fly just a little bit more before putting her down, because it was the most exciting experience she had ever had, and he did so with a few half-hearted protests.

However, he was very agitated to find that she had nowhere to go and no home to return to, which neatly landed her in his hands. That she was prone to walking straight into danger and force him to come to her rescue only added to his irritation, but in the end, he didn't really mind. He grew used to her company, and eventually to the attraction he had harbored since he first saw her gaze out of that lone tower, with long, golden hair shining in the sun.

But what about Gin, the fox demon? Well, that epic battle is for another story.


	82. Reversed

It was unfair. The whole situation was just so very  _un_ just. No lieutenant should be exposed to such distraction on duty. It would be impossible to withstand this torture – providing you were a functional, straight woman or gay man – but she franticly searched for a way to endure it all the same. A losing battle, but her pride refused to let her surrender.

She would  _not_  lose to wet clothes, form-fitting jeans (she was going to kill the designer of those), mussed hair and soft lips.

Not when her peaceful life as a slacker was on stake, should she lose this god-awful bet. Tightening her grip of the umbrella, she groaned at her situation and stared into his amused, teal eyes with as much misery she could muster.

"Forget it Matsumoto, if you as much as try to touch me without permission, or drop that umbrella, you ain't getting none tonight!"

She had never expected him to grow up so fast, but apparently, she was going to have to fight for dominance from now on. His hand snuck up her skirt and pressed against her aching sex and she promptly forgot why she should care, because in the end, it was just as pleasurable.


	83. Argument

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obviously written before the reveal of who the old Captain of the 10th Division was.

The white-haired young Captain entered with a dark scowl, bringing with him an unnaturally cold breeze that made the room's occupants shiver in the summer heat. However, in the stuffy atmosphere of the library Jushiro rather welcomed the fresh air coming with the sweep of the short Captain's haori. He chose to keep this to himself though, as the boy in question sat down with a barely concealed huff. Hitsugaya Toshiro did not huff though, but Jushiro supposed it was safe to call it such in the confines of his mind.

"You seem rather… _upset_  today, Captain Hitsugaya," the older man greeted, patting himself mentally on the back for not using the dreaded nickname when he was obviously quite pissed already. The old documents on the table before him wouldn't be able to withstand any degree beneath freezing.

"My lieutenant and I had a slight… _disagreement_ ," was the reply, muttered through clenched teeth while a slim brow twitched in annoyance – no doubt was he replaying whatever had happened in his head and not liking it. Jushiro smiled, amused by the fact that he had guessed as much; trust Rangiku to be the one to destroy the iron-grip this young man usually had on his emotions. It was always interesting to watch the 10th division's new Captain interact with his lieutenant, or so he'd been told. He had only seen them together a few times since Toshiro was appointed Captain, due to being bedridden for several months. This was his first week outside his office for longer than he cared to remember.

"Oh, so you've had an argument with Rangiku-chan again, you say?" he inquired, when it became obvious Toshiro wouldn't offer the information without probing. "What about?"

A frown met his careful questioning, and he noted with interest how the younger Captain's cheeks had turned a light pink of embarrassment. Straightening in his seat, although he was already sitting rigidly so, Toshiro lowered his gaze to study the papers strewn on the table's surface, probably looking for a distraction. Clearing his throat, he looked up to meet Jushiro's increasingly curious stare after having realized that there was no way to smoothly change the subject.

"It was of no importance," he finally answered, the nonchalant tone in his voice betrayed by the still lingering blush on his face. Jushiro smiled, delighted. It was the first time he had witnessed Toshiro in any other mood than serious or annoyed. He figured it was quite a feat to be able to make him feel such discomfort, but then again, Rangiku had a knack for such things.

"Surely something that managed to get  _you_  to leave the office  _must_ 've been important, right, Toshiro-kun?" a familiar voice interrupted, causing both white-haired Captains to jump slightly in their seats. Jushiro sighed when the sight of pink greeted his startled stare, wondering how long his old friend had been lurking about eavesdropping. Toshiro merely titled his head to glare, his ire reawakened and his embarrassment doubled. Jushiro himself felt slightly awkward for having missed Shunsui's presence, but he blamed it on being too occupied with Toshiro's unusual reactions and having just become well enough to move about again. Besides, the man was extremely skilled in hiding. One must be, with a lieutenant such as his.

"I'm merely out on business, Captain Kyoraku," Toshiro defended, and Jushiro could almost see the imagined feathers getting ruffled. "It has nothing to do with the disagreement with my lieutenant. "

"Disagreement, you say?" Shunsui repeated, casually taking a seat by their table and rubbing his chin in a thoughtful manner. "Was it the argument kind or the bantering kind?"

Looking slightly startled, Toshiro took a while to respond. Jushiro was as confused as he, wondering where he was going with this odd conversation. "I don't see why this is relevant. I—"

"—Well, I was just wondering, Toshiro-kun, what could've caused you such distress," Shunsui interrupted, smiling and winking at Jushiro when he sent him a puzzled stare. "You must tell us if Rangiku-chan has overstepped her boundaries; we understand that being a new Captain puts strain on you and if there was something she said that upset you so…well, I feel obliged to help!"

Momentarily dazed in what Jushiro assumed was mortification, Toshiro cleared his throat nervously and tried to renew his glare, but ended up looking slightly pained. "I assure you that what happened between me and my lieutenant is nothing I can't handle, Captain Kyoraku."

Humming, Shunsui leaned forward and grinned, causing Jushiro to sigh. He had given up on this conversation the moment his friend stepped in, obviously with a goal in mind that probably didn't require his help in order to be reached. So he settled with observing, quite content with doing so after so many weeks spent isolated.

"Are you sure, Toshiro-kun? Rangiku-chan is a very difficult person to handle, and if she managed to get you to run away, I'd say you didn't quite succeed in 'handling' her, hm?" Jushiro watched, curiously, as the pink on the younger Captain's cheeks darkened and spread over the bridge of his nose as well. His mouth opened to protest, but Shunsui continued with an exaggerated sigh. "Ah, Rangiku-chan; she probably isn't the lieutenant most suited for you, Toshiro-kun. The last Captain couldn't stop complaining about her; it's a wonder she still has her rank. Are you considering a transfer, perhaps? Was that was this 'disagreement' was about, Toshiro-kun? Well, none of us would—"

"—That is quite enough, Captain Kyoraku," Toshiro bit out, cutting him off while standing. The temperature had started to drop again, and his embarrassment seemed replaced with anger rather than the previous annoyance. "I am not considering a 'transfer' since Matsumoto has proved very capable in what she does, although her work ethic leaves much to be desired. Our slight disagreement is between no one else but us and doesn't concern our work. She is  _my_  lieutenant now, not the previous Captain's, and I would prefer if you did not speak of her as if she is a hindrance. Despite being a rank below us, you should still show her respect and leave judgment for her performance to me, as  _her_  commanding officer. Now, I apologize for cutting this short, but I need to return to my office. Good day, Captain Kyoraku, Captain Ukitake."

Flash-stepping away the second he finished his strangely calm berating speech, Toshiro left behind one last breeze of chilly winter air before the warmth of summer returned abruptly. Turning to face his old friend, Jushiro waited patiently for the explanation he knew would come. He was torn between disapproval and amusement, but carefully kept himself from forming an opinion just yet.

"Rangiku-chan is quite lucky to finally have a Captain who can appreciate her; don't you think so, my old friend?" Shunsui finally said, a lazy grin tugging at his lips. Jushiro sighed, nodding. Sometimes he forgot Shunsui was a man of action. Admittedly, both had been concerned as well as relieved when a new Captain had been appointed Rangiku's division, but Shunsui was the one who had expressed his will to 'investigate' the young boy. It would seem as if that was now a case closed.

"Even so, Shunsui, you shouldn't have said those things about her," Jushiro finally said, accepting his friend's plotting but not the comments about Rangiku. She suffered enough complaints and accusations from others, and to hear it from her faithful drinking partner was frustrating, even if he didn't mean it.

"I never lied," he defended with a grin. "I said it was her  _old_  Captain that complained about her, and it  _is_  a wonder she wasn't sacked when that old man wouldn't stop whining. Besides, she probably isn't the lieutenant most suited for him, but that doesn't mean they don't work well together. From the looks of it, she's already crawled under his skin, the poor thing. I imagine we'll encounter many more temper tantrums like this one in the future, old friend."

Chuckling, Jushiro shook his head and sighed. The man was impossible, sometimes. A few moments of silence followed, before he spoke up again.

"I bumped into Rangiku on my way here. Apparently, she was looking for her Captain to continue with their…discussion."

Raising a brow in question, Jushiro leaned back and observed his friend's smirk."Oh? Their 'discussion' wouldn't happen to be the same as their 'disagreement', would it?"

Shunsui laughed, obviously amused. "In fact, it  _was_  the same. What a coincident, don't you think?"

"Yes, indeed," He smiled. "But what was this discussion about?" It would be lying to say he wasn't curious.

"Whether there should be saké or caffeine in the tea, and which would be the most effective to fight off weariness."

Jushiro decided he had to visit the 10th division more often from now on, if only to hear the reasoning behind such an 'argument'. It was bound to be interesting.


	84. Her Love Story

It takes a lot for her to lose her control. She is dominant, she makes her own rules – she makes people back down and follow her lead. Nothing gets under her clothes; nothing gets under her skin – not without her permission. Nothing has shaken her resolve, tipped her world up-side-down or even taken notice of her games.

.

Trust it to be a young man who looks like he's barely legal to be the first proving her wrong.

.

He had approached her in her seat by the bar. Unlike most nights, she hadn't been looking for trouble – delicious, mind-blowing trouble caused by those spur-of-the-moments encounters. She had been sure she had made it clear to everyone there that it was her night off. No crazy partying, no crazy sex with faceless people buying her next drink. It had been a night she had planned to spend breathing, to spend existing, without doing  _anything_  – it was her weak attempt at assuring herself she could be, she could live, despite any sort of activity. The drinking only helped her think during these nights, really.

But he had stepped up, smirking as if he knew something she didn't, and bought himself a drink. She was a woman who appreciated beauty, in all forms, so the smile she sent his way hadn't been as cold as she'd hoped it to be.

.

He had been blunt, it had made her laugh. She had never seen him before, but he had seen her. Observed her enough to give her a short summary of everything she was. She'd refused to be shocked, had merely complimented his skill. Obviously he was of the smarter kind, and she had asked what he was doing talking to a woman like her. He'd shrugged, told her he was trying to find the missing piece in his puzzle.

"This isn't all that you are," he'd said. She kept meeting him for days after that – weekdays, weekends – and always the same bar, always the same drinks. Pink Lady for her, dry martini for him – shaken, not stirred. He'd liked her jokes, and admitted he too was a fan of Bond, James Bond. She asked for his name, and he'd replied with a charming grin.

"Hitsugaya, Hitsugaya Toshiro."

It made her giggle.

.

Then, she introduced him to her friends. Her crazy, partying friends. Her comrades. Because then, she could say;

"This is Toshiro! Toshiro, meet my friends; Ikkaku, Yumichika and Renji!"

She liked knowing she was the only one in the group who knew everyone, she liked controlling the conversation. Simply, she liked control. It shocked her when he had excused them from her friends' company, even more so when they agreed without complaint. He'd taken her back to the bar, bought her a drink, and offered her a ride home. The blush on his cheeks when she teasingly accused him of jealousy had brought on a rush of adrenaline –  _control_. He wanted her.

.

"I won't be coming around for a while, my girlfriend and I made up."

.

She had been stupid to think a man like him was unattached, but comforted herself with the thought that he  _had_  wanted her. As a replacement, as an in-between embrace to fall into. She had been there, she had done it herself. She was constantly doing it, wasn't she? Seeing something she liked, taking a bite, then leaving (the only difference was he hadn't even taken a nibble of what she had to offer).

She stopped thinking about it after a week, because she knew she had no right to be hurting.

.

When he came back, sliding effortlessly into the seat next to hers, she had complimented the healthy flush on his cheeks.

"You look good." And he did. She asked where his girlfriend was, because it would be nice to meet her. She had always wondered what girls who had guys like him looked like – how they behaved – what it was they had that attracted them.

"I broke up."

Then again, maybe she was better off not knowing. But she liked how he used 'I', rather than 'we'. Why? She didn't stop to think.

.

His first kiss had been sweet, something she wasn't used to. Not only because it was soft or because it made her heart skip a beat, but because  _he_ was the one who kissed  _her._ She made up for her lack of control by breaking it off, leaving him with a teasing smile and a whispered promise of  _more_ – because, really, she  _should've_  been the one to take the first step, since she had wanted to from the moment they met and it had now made her look indecisive. That just wouldn't do.

.

"Why won't you just accept my invitation?"

She didn't know, but dinner with him would mean leaving the bar. Leaving her playfield, leaving her safe ground, leaving her kingdom. She would be vulnerable and she would risk losing control.

It didn't matter that it would be her first date since  _him_ , and it didn't mean anything that she really  _wanted_  to go.

Just to prove how meaningless the whole thing was, she'd agreed.

.

Fucking with him was wild. Fucking with him was in a sleek, red Porsche with her stilettos on and braced against the dashboard. It was satisfying, it was spur-of-the-moment and it was safe; she had done it before. He'd lost control; her hand had squeezed his arousal and caressed him through his pants until he'd stopped by a deserted parking place and  _given in._  She took pleasure in his surrender, in her control.

"You're driving me insane woman."

She hoped so, because then maybe she'd let him stay. She didn't deserve a man who ordered glasses of water when she'd drunk too much, who reserved a table weeks before the actual dinner, who opened the car's door for her, lent her his coat and massaged her feet after a long walk by the beach.

If he was crazy, he'd be like her, and she wouldn't feel so bad about living in a lie. He would be doing the same, then.

.

Sex with him was exciting. It was temporary, a few days a week. It kept her on her toes, she never knew when it would end and it made her wonder what had happened to control. Simple, familiar control.

"Do you want to go to your place this time?"

She didn't. She had no desire to take him to a flat with a kitchen and a living room and a bathroom. Her bed was too small for two, her couch would surely break, and her kitchen wasn't sanitary. The bathtub was her sanctuary, where she forgot everything. She wouldn't be able to forget him.

"Your place is closer."

And he wouldn't know they were passing it by even as she spoke, because she had never told him where it was.

.

Making love to him was awkward. She had lost control and given in to him –  _he was so persistent._

Yes, making love to him was new; it was fumbling, blushing and stuttering. It made her moan like they were having sex, it made her breath hitch like they were fucking, but she reasoned there shouldn't be any difference between any of these  _words_  because in the end, they were all the same.

"I love you."

But it was the first time she cried even as she moaned in pleasure, it was the first time she replied and  _meant it_. She likes to think it's special, likes to think it's meant to be and that maybe, there is a difference. Because, in the end, she is a woman and she's dominant and she's found someone who slipped underneath her skin with no effort at all.

It wouldn't be safe to leave him unattended, so she stays.

"I prefer your place, Toshiro-kun. You bed is large enough for two."

 


	85. Unsuspected

What you see isn't always what you get.

Hitsugaya Toshiro is very familiar with this particular saying, and although it sometimes brings him disappointment, he is more often than not strangely grateful – at least when it comes to the beautiful woman sprawled across the couch. She is a wonderful bundle of contradictions and like with most things, the simple saying he often uses in the confines of his mind isn't nearly wide enough to describe her  _specifically_. But, he muses, when it comes down to it, it suits her quite well.

When you look at her, you'll see her long, wavy, golden hair; the silky locks framing a beautiful face with intense, blue eyes and lush, glossy lips. You'll see a slender body graced with a generous bust which cleavage made many do a double take. You'll be tricked to believe that the elegant mole placed so gracefully underneath her plump bottom lip is the only thing marring her pale, smooth skin and it'll make her  _perfect_.

But he knows, oh he knows of the many things shattering the perfect image she presents to the untrained eye. The eye unwilling to see past their own awe, their own jealousy, their own imagination.

But he, he sees it all. He sees the palest freckles adoring her straight nose; he sees the specks of grey in the seemingly endless blue of her eyes. He sees that her flat stomach and strong, slim arms have moles scattered along her skin and that the toe next to her big toe is slightly longer on both her feet.

But her warm hands and slender legs are his favorite.

All the calluses on her palms, all the pale and dark scars marring her long legs tells stories he loves to read – with his eyes, his lips, his tongue, fingers and hands. It tells of dirt, of grime, pain, strength and  _life_. It betrays the glamorous, the beautiful, the  _perfect_  illusion so skillfully crafted by her wide smiles, graceful movements and charming personality. It allows him to see the road that has led her to the point where she is now, a road that has made her to the person he loves with his mind, his heart, body and soul.

And she moans so tantalizingly when his tongue trails along that road, she wraps herself tightly around him when he whispers his own tale across her scarred skin in a foolish hope of their paths entwining. He feels he can go on forever, hearing her story, tasting her life, but it makes him uneasy to realize he is missing in all those memories, in all those moments that makes her  _her._  So he marks her, as best as he can, where her skin is still pale and perfect. A small drop of blood touches his tongue and he is reminded of all the times she has bled without him, bled because of someone else. So he soothes it almost immediately, wiping away any trace, but the mark of his teeth still lingers –  _his,_  no one else's _._

He pushes himself forward, trying to melt into her warm embrace, and rejoices as her soft flesh welcomes him. He imagines this will stay with her, this will change her; this will become another part of her. They are one, after all, and he likes to think that once it's over, something – anything – will be left behind. In her, he wishes it'll stay. He cannot imagine a better place to be.

He is marking her again, gentler this time. He sucks, nibbles and kisses until the white scar across her collarbone is red and can't be recognized for what it is anymore. Even if he can't mold himself into her past, he aims to entangle himself with her present, her future. She welcomes him with moans, sighs and breathy whispers of his name, his title and a possessive exclamation of  _mine._  It makes him shiver in pleasure, makes him claim her lips until they're swollen from his attention. He wishes it wouldn't end so soon, but it's rushed, it's desperate and it's quick. He couldn't wait, so he's not allowed to take his time now.

Then she tells him she loves him and he forgets his regrets. He caresses the new marks on her skin, the new moments in her life, with a delicate finger. He can barely speak, she's made him so breathless, but it's a good thing, he believes. It gives him an excuse to trace his reply on her heart, his touch lingering on the skin of her heaving chest.

She smiles and he delights in the face of her contentment. She tells him he's sweet, a hopeless romantic. At this moment he doesn't care, because he is caressing her bare stomach and imagining what will become of that piece of him inside. This time, will it stay? This time, will it be welcomed, accepted? Will it mold into one – a piece of him, a piece of her – and become a child? Their child?

She laughs at his fascination, not because it's funny, but because it's genuine, and she expresses joy the best through noises. He knows; she has always been loud. Kissing his nose, she sighs and he smiles. She tells him no one believes her when she brags about him, about how cute, how kind, loving and  _perfect_  of a man he is. It makes him blush, but he says that what you see isn't always what you get, and again, she laughs.

He spares a glance at her flat tummy, wondering if it really is devoid of a new life. Maybe he was too quick to assume their first few tries have been unsuccessful, and silently he tells himself to accompany her to the 4th division once his breathing has returned to normal.

It reminds him of why he was in a hurry in the first place, and soon, he has them dressed quicker than he had managed to untie her obi minutes ago.

And a moment later, the 10th division's office is empty once again.


	86. Worlds

Swallowing as his name rolled off her tongue like dripping honey, Toshiro tried to remember why he'd been so upset over something as trivial and ordinary as Matsumoto's cheery tales of her mischief of the day. Stress and her provoking clothing were the first reasons that came to mind, but no negative thoughts were attached to his, by now, rather blurry memory. But he really needed the distraction of his anger now, or he would not be able to resist her soft hands. It was, however, too late. The unpleasant emotion of annoyance had already begun to melt away to be replaced by the familiar tug of arousal. He managed an unconvincing growl before his lips were given a task they carried out with much more passion.

Kissing her deeply, his arms embraced her slim waist and his hands climbed up her spine to reach the zipper of the flimsy dress that held her body captive; pulling it down and freeing her naked breasts. He could never decide if he hated or loved the fact that she never bothered with a bra or any kind of bindings for her delicious breasts, now pressing against his clothed chest. He tugged at the straps of her dress impatiently, making her wriggle and slide her arms out of them; the upper part of the dress pooling around her waist to rest on her curvy hips. One more tug at the silky fabric and it slid down her long, slim legs easily; almost like a whisper across her creamy skin.

He lost no time letting his hands roam the skin now fully available for him, and greedily swallowed her moans of approval. Breaking away in a gasp of shocked, intense pleasure his hips jerked forward to meet the teasing hand that had suddenly squeezed the aching bulge in his pants. She smirked at his reaction, and continued to massage the hot arousal while unbuttoning his shirt with practiced ease. He moaned and leaned forward, resting his cheek against her shoulder and nuzzling her neck affectionately as his hips settled in a slow, grinding rhythm. His hands – which had not stopped tracing her spine and soft skin – travelled down to her bottom, cupping the clad cheeks and groaning in approval as her hand slipped inside unzipped pants; squeezing.

This was as dangerous as it was delicious, he knew. Coming to the real world had its perks, which she seemed to take full advantage of as she let him push her up against the wall of an alley between two apartment complexes. Here, their private time was almost doubled compared to the other world. Here, his resolve snapped so easily is was laughable.

Here, in this world, when they walked the streets, people would see a couple. Not a Captain and his Lieutenant.

Here, he mused, she was free for his taking and he knew he wouldn't let it go to waste.

 _Here_  "I love you"  _shamelessly._

She smiled.

"I love you too."


	87. Ribbon

The ribbon had been a present, she remembered. It had been sweet, in an innocent kind of way. She really missed the illusions of the past at times like these, when the ribbon tightened around her tangled hair and slipped through her calloused fingers. It was silk, a fabric she hadn't had contact with for years that had been easily forgotten.

She could not, however, forget the boy who had so awkwardly shoved this gift into her hands so many summers ago.

At fifteen, she had had many suitors. He had been ten, too young, but the blush on his cheeks had been genuine despite the childish edge of his boyish, arrogant attitude. It had been her birthday, a feast had been held in her honor, but she hadn't been one for such things even back then. Showing off wealth, smiling at your enemy and giving them your dance. Idiotic theatrics. She'd left, snuck outside to her private garden, and she'd thought she was alone.

He had been waiting by the small bench she had favored, shuffling his feet in uncharacteristic anxiety while nervously picking at a neatly wrapped present. It was a pleasant surprise that night, and she could still picture his face as she'd kissed his cheek and exchanged her hairclips and bows for that simple, pink silk ribbon. It amused as much as it saddened her whenever she met him now, and compared her memory with what she was seeing presently.

He was seventeen now, and she past twenty.

Gone were her flowing skirts and golden jewelry, replaced with tattered tunics and sturdy boots. Her sword and bow were her accessories, her clothing practical and her movements graceful as that of a warrior. She wasn't a Lady anymore, and he wasn't her shy, young suitor.

"Matsumoto, this ends now!" he called after her, sword raised and eyes blazing. She smiled, wondering what she looked like to him. What he thought of her. Did he think she was a thief? A traitor? Was her lips still lush and her hair still golden?

"Oh, but Captain," she replied to his shout, keeping her distance from him while dodging the few soldiers surrounding them. "I am just starting to enjoy it! You wouldn't deny a Lady her fun, right, Captain?"

He snarled a curse, noting he hadn't gotten any closer to her. She was slippery as fish. "You're hardly a Lady, Matsumoto! You're an outlaw and I  _will_  catch you!"

She giggled, mounting the horse of a newly fallen soldier. Gripping the reins, she flashed him a wide smile before winking and sending him a kiss. "You've been trying to catch me for six years, Captain! What makes you think this time will be any different?"

She left before he could reply, horse rearing before setting off in a fast gallop and leaving a trail of dust behind. He watched her men retreat, following their leader, and frowned. Something pink caught his attention from where he stood, and he hastily made his way to it.

The ribbon.

It smelled like her, despite the dirt dulling its color. He let it slide between his fingers, caressing. He had seen her wear it ever since he gave it to her and he wondered if she ever took it off. The thought of her keeping it on, always, made him smirk as he stared into the distance. She had gotten away again, as she always did, which meant another Lord had been stripped of his gold when travelling through these woods. Taking from the rich to give to the poor, they said. Secretly, he understood. Secretly, he knew he wasn't chasing her to put her behind bars.

Secretly, he admired the crazy maiden who left the comfort of her riches to fight for the people who could not do it for themselves.

Yes, secretly, he loved Matsumoto Rangiku more than anything.

And next time he saw her, he'd make sure to give her ribbon back.


	88. Treasures

He wasn't gentle; his hands were rough and calloused, his arms strong and his kisses rough. But she didn't mind, because without fail, he would taunt her senses until she screamed his  _name_  – until she forgot his title – and lost all semblance of control and defiance. And he loved her like that, she knew. When her moans became pleading, when her tongue gave way for his and when her arms held on to him like he was the only thing of substance in her world.

Her lips would be too occupied with whispers of the pleasure he brought her to form her trademark grin – the smirk she knew drew him insane with frustration. Even her eyes would be too clouded for the usual taunting twinkle to test his patience, and she knew his driving need to  _possess_  her, to make her  _bend_  to  _him,_  would be fulfilled once again, like every night. She knew it was inventible, but she would be lying if she said she didn't thoroughly enjoy taunting him until he snapped and abandoned his chilly demeanor as easily as he shrugged out of his Captain coat and left duty behind. And like every day, she wondered how long it would take for him to retreat to his cabin with her in tow, leaving the crew to smirk and share knowing glances, among the many jealous mutters and curses.

Securing a lock of stray, golden hair behind her ear, Matsumoto Rangiku grinned from her position by the railing of the quarter deck as her inner musings were interrupted by a scorching hot glare.

She met the sea green eyes of her Captain with a tilt of her lips that suggested she knew exactly why his temper was climbing, and doing so quite rapidly. Having spent an hour or so simply staring, eying him up and down, she would have to be pretty dense not to realize her attention was far from appreciated. He was currently steering the ship, the midday sun hot and blazing despite the chilly winds of the ocean. Not a fan of warmth, not to this degree, she was amused by how stubbornly he kept still at his post when he usually left the steering to her or another member of the crew around this time a day. She figured he had wanted distraction, by his reaction to her advances below deck earlier when she had snuck down to tap in on some of the rum and he'd followed – knowing all too well what she'd been up to the moment she left the main deck. Her Captain was strict with such things – not only the drinking, but indulging in  _sexual activities_  outside his cabin as well, much to her amusement and annoyance.

So after a few heated kisses and perfectly indecent groping, he'd stormed out on her and promptly taken over the steering of the ship even as she followed, her eyes having yet to leave his rather delicious body and cute, highly annoyed, face.

"Matsumoto," he growled, speaking to her for the first time since he'd left her below deck. She straightened from having leaned against the railing, grinning, and made her way to where he stood in a silent response to his unspoken command.

"What, Captain?" she asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible but failing quite miserably. Had she ever been innocent? She couldn't remember.

"If all you intend to do is to stare, then do so somewhere else," he snapped in reply, hands clenching around the steering wheel to betray his mounting temper. If he was showing his agitation physically – glares excluded – then she was making progress.

"But I like the view from up here," she purred, slipping up close to blow hot breath on his ear. He flinched at her sudden movement and closeness, but remained where he stood. He would never back down, she knew, and when she grinned her lips brushed lightly against his skin and she was sure he saw her smirk without looking.

"Matsumoto," he began, voice strained. "As your Captain, I order you to get your ass moving and do some work! Get to the main deck, now woman!"

She sighed, pressing a kiss by the corner of his lips before quickly removing herself from harm's way and sending him a slight pout, even as her stormy eyes twinkled with mirth. "Aye, Capt'n!"

She could feel his glare on her back all the way down, and the extra sway of her hips made him wonder if she knew what she was getting herself into. The thought had barely registered before he shook his head and smirked. Of course she knew; she welcomed it with open arms –  _and legs –_ every night. Frowning at the turn of his thoughts, Hitsugaya Toshiro cursed the woman for the umpteenth time. It would be hard to find good enough distractions again – no pun intended. And she was probably already below deck emptying the bottles of rum with her faithful drinking buddies, not caring if he was willing to strangle something soon with the foul temper she had caused with her irresistible teasing.

Sometimes he wondered if he had made the right choice to spare her life, what with the ease she drove him crazy and crushed his control. Then the memory of  _that_  day would flash before his eyes as fresh as if it was yesterday – not four years in the past – and he would abandon such thoughts and silently agree that it had been one of his better decisions in this life of piracy he led.

Matsumoto Rangiku had been the Captain of this ship when he first came aboard as a cabin boy. It hadn't taken him long to gain respect and climb in the unspoken ranks among the crew. Not with his skill in battle and quick thinking that had saved the ship many troubles. But he would never be First or even Second Mate, and he would never get his hands on the one woman he had ever wanted so bad it made his blood boil. It hadn't helped that she knew, hadn't helped him at all that  _he_ knew she refused him a higher rank to keep the distance and to taunt him with her title.

When some of the men had started to grow restless with a woman as Captain, he'd seized his chance. Although he was among people who needed no such thing, he justified his actions with arguing for the need of having the strongest as the leader. He knew she could never win against him, and challenged her for her title before anyone else could. He wouldn't allow her to lose to anyone else.

Their fight that day had been exhilarating. First blood, he'd said, and when he'd cut through her dirty woolen blouse, exposing her taunt stomach and the thin line of blood running across it, they'd both been panting and flying high on the excitement of battle.

She had accepted her defeat gracefully, and he sometimes wondered if it'd been a true defeat at all. Kneeling before him, she'd had her head high and waited for his sword to drop and sever her pretty little head from her thin shoulders. He'd brought the tip of his sword underneath her chin and forced her to look him straight in the face, rather than through seductive lashes, and he'd considered killing her then because of her knowing smirk and ever-twinkling eyes. She'd known his intention, and as the crew cheered upon his announcement – for the majority liked her for more than her body and pretty face – her gaze had never left his.

" _I'll let you live, Matsumoto Rangiku, former Captain of the Red Storm,"_ he'd said, ignoring the relived cheers that had followed his statement as he continued, _"and from now on your life belongs to_ _ **me.**_ _"_

He'd meant every word, but as time passed, he found himself wondering if the power he had over her was as strong as he'd claimed. He even entertained the thought of this ship being named after her, with the havoc she created with her mere existence. She didn't fear him, never had and probably never would. His threats only provoked teasing winks and knowing grins, and he'd been forced to realize no matter how many times he drew his sword or dagger to graze her throat it would never sink any deeper than the first layer of skin. Of all the things he wanted, her death was one thing he truly did not desire. It was the one thing he allowed himself to fear, because she – with her smiles, her eyes and warmth – was the only thing he could not imagine himself without.

She was a treasure he never intended to share, never intended to bury, hide or spend. She was  _his_  and he would do anything to show it, would continue to possess her as thoroughly he could.

But first thing's first, he mused as he handed over the steering wheel to his Second Mate and made his way down to the main deck. Just for today, he needed to make sure she knew  _exactly_  what she was playing with – after what she did below deck it was only right, steering up memories from the past – and no one would really miss them if they were gone for a couple of minutes. They might not even notice it, he hoped. Even if they did, no one would question it, because  _she was his._  And he was Captain, so he could do what he pleased. And for once, he decided to actually act upon it for a very selfish reason rather than for the benefit of his ship and his crew.

He just needed to find her, that damnable woman. It wouldn't surprise him if she intentionally hid to further rile him, but there wasn't many placed to hide, and the longer the wait the sweeter the reward, he'd been told.

Too bad he wasn't sweet, but all was well, because she didn't want it any other way. That's what her moans told him, anyway, and he knew he'd struck gold – quite literally – with the way she fit against him.

A treasure indeed.


	89. Unexpected

Hitsugaya Toshiro woke up as he usually did, lying in a wide, big futon with silken sheets and an impressive amount of pillows. The maid that his father insisted on keeping around sat kneeling by his side, having just straightened up after nudging him awake. He rolled to the side, ignoring the servant as he slowly sat up and slipped out of the covers. Before he managed to stand up, the maid was there with his morning robe and slippers, which he slipped into with ease while standing up. His arms stretched out and the maid dressed him in his robe within seconds, and as she tied the obi he stifled a yawn before shooing her away with slight annoyance. He was never a morning person.

Sliding the beautifully decorated door aside, he stepped out into the hallway and made his way towards the dining room, leaving the maid to make his room ready for his return. Glancing out of the windows as he passed, he noted that he had indeed been woken up as early as he had requested.

Today was going to be a long day, he mused. A trip into town, to greet the people his father ruled and protected in the name of the Emperor. It was a mundane task for the young man, and he found it as enjoyable as attending the numerous formal, social gatherings his father arranged or was invited to (Lord Kyōraku made horrible company with all his indecent drinking, not to mention the bad influence he had on the young boy's sometimes rather naïve father, but alas, they were childhood friends and inseparable much to the son's chagrin). He would rather stay in his room, surrounded by scrolls and rare books, than be forced to do something as unnecessary as being carried around town in an overly decorated carriage with guards taking up the whole street.

The people that were pushed out of the way stayed silent, or cheered when the guards gave them their cue, and when he looked out through the covered windows he saw them bow down deeply, averting their eyes, with the occasional youngster who suffered from a rebellious streak, making an unnecessary fuss. Those youths were the only ones that provided some kind of entertainment, although he found himself disgusted by their ignorance. Common people had no grace or intellect; no allurement. Nothing that interested him.

Pushing his inner musing of the upcoming day aside, he sat down by the table and took in the many delicious dishes that stood before him. If nothing else, he was always incredibly hungry in the mornings.

oOo

"What the  _fuck_  are you doing Gin?!"

"Wha? Watch yer language, hun'. I'm eatin', ya see?"

"Dammit, that was  _mine,_  you idiot!"

"Well, it's still in there. Come 'n get it?"

"Urgh, never mind. You owe me one."

A young pair consisting of a man, whose smile could only be described as fox-like in appearance, and a woman of exotic beauty (if not somewhat dulled by days or perhaps weeks of travelling) came bickering down a dusty, lonesome road. They were heading towards the town that could be seen just up ahead, carrying with them nothing more than a bundle of items each, tied to their backs, and worn-looking swords secured by their obis, and a wide woven hat on the woman's head. They walked slowly, but came to a stop as they were almost within sight of the guards by the town's entrance. The woman sighed, before untying the bundle on her back and pulling out a big, tattered piece of clothing.

"I  _hate_  this," she grumbled, a pout making her full lips gleam in the sunlight as she licked them. The man snorted, helping her dress and hide her long, wavy, blonde hair and the lower part of her face beneath a worn cloth, followed by her wide hat. "Well, ya know how it is. You lookin' like a foreigner 'n all. We'd be arrested before we'd managed to do somethin' worth gettin' arrested  _for_ , obaasan."

"Don't over do it, smartass. You won't have to call me  _that_  'till we reach the gates. But oh yes, I can practically see the wheels in your head turning Gin," she began, voice slightly muffled by the fabric as they started to walk again, and she continued with an impatient sigh. "But this time, could you please wait at least a few days before adding more stuff to our criminal record? And please, keep it down; we don't need any more people after our heads."

"Chill, obaasan," was his answer as they neared the town's entrance. "What's the worst that can happen, eh?"

She really did not want to find out, and thus refrained from answering that horribly jinxed question as she made herself ready to trick another set of guards with her back bent, walking with a limp. Sending a silent prayer to whatever holy powers that were out there, she hoped that this would be nothing other than all the other towns they had visited throughout the years.

oOo

Loud, busy, vibrant;  _alive_. That was her first impression as she stepped through the gates and followed her companion into the heart of the city. It had turned out to be quite a lot larger than she had expected, but she assumed it was because the previous villages they had encountered on their way here had been quite a few, but pretty propitious. Usually, when that was the case, there was no large town near, since taxes would drain the villages' economy and leave a tell-tale sign of a tyranny she had grown up to hate. But for whatever reason, she had seen no outrageous suffering, and it had been surprisingly easy to get a hand on food, water and shelter for the night. It was things like these that lifted her spirits high, and made the ache in feet, legs and arms worth it. The mischievous glint in Gin's eye as he cracked one open from his ever-present squint, in order to observe her, excited her enough to make her forget, for a moment, the need to tread carefully. His grin widened, and she giggled at the insane expression that now adorned his thin, sharp face.

"Let's see what this town has to offer, shall we, Ran-chan?"

oOo

An elder man's hands shook ever so slightly as he positioned his arms before him, making a deep bow before pleading in a wavering voice to the young man before him. "My young Lord, please---"

"---Did I not make myself clear? I  _said_  to take the short route."

"But, please, Toshiro-sama, the people---"

"---The people hate this tradition as much as I do. Now, let us take the short route, and end this as efficiently as possible. I have other matters to attend to, as you should  _know_ , being my advisor."

The older man relented, knowing better than to press the matter further. He made a mental note to speak with the Lord of his son's distaste for traditions once again, because maybe, just maybe, the Lord would do something about his son's outrageous behaviour. It was highly unlikely, since the Lord gave his son free reign about almost everything. Even his wife showed little concern about their heir's cheek, but this old man was in no place to criticise, he knew. The young man was of rare talent; intelligent, with outstanding skills in both battle and leadership. Ever since he could walk and talk, the young Lording had continued to impress those around him, although he also gained an equally large amount of envy and distaste from those who weren't part of his admirers. The only wish the old man had was for the young boy to realize that sometimes, knowledge isn't everything. Sometimes, experience is the only way of truly understanding.

oOo

They had already managed to get their fill of lunch, and she had quickly forgiven her companion for eating her last piece of food from the last trip once he snatched several delicious looking fruits and riceballs, all fresh, and thrust into her eager hands. They had only explored what she estimated was one fourth of the city, and were taking a short break by the river dividing the town in two. Perched on the bridge's railing, she happily munched on her last bit of apple while dangling her feet to the tune she hummed. She was temporary out of her role as the poor old granny, but left her hood to cover her cursed hair. Combined with her stormy, steel-blue eyes the blonde tresses would cause nothing but trouble, with the capital T.

Gin, whose eyes seemed completely shut, observed their surroundings with expertise. She knew he saw everything, despite his bad habit of squinting so terribly. No doubt was he pondering where they would sleep tonight, or maybe he was considering what man to rob? She had made him promise time and again to only take from the richest people around, although that mattered little in the villages where no one could be called rich. She knew this was a poor attempt at keeping her morals in a world that constantly spit on them, but Gin had humoured her so far, and she was grateful even if she knew he held no qualms robbing the poor blind. Survival for the fittest, she mused as the sour taste of the fresh apple turned slightly bitter.

"Hey," he suddenly called, snatching her attention. His grin was wide, excited, and she curiously looked in the direction his finger pointed at. "Looks like somethin's goin' down."

They were in the less populated part of town, so the commotion on their side of the river surprised her. Seeing the flash of a few soldiers between the masses of people gathering, she smirked. "Seems like it's a bit too crowded; it's almost a bit…suspicious. Don't you think, son?" Even as she spoke she jumped down and slipped into her disguise easily; hunching her back and changing her musical, deep voice into a dry, old one. Gin merely returned her smirk with his far more impressive one, and it was in silence that they made their way off the bride.

They might have some prey to catch.


	90. Art

At first, it had amused her. He was young, but looked so serious about it that she just couldn't say no. Had it been any other, she would've flat-out refused, and he knew it too. She just didn't do  _those_  kinds of portraits.

Come to think of it, he hadn't really asked for her permission – it had been more like a request. His confidence was admirable, she thought, and not undeserved at all. He was a genius, for all his grumpy manners and smart-ass comments, and it intrigued her like none other. It was always a plus he was pleasant to the eye as well, even with that ever-present frown that brought his brows together and created that little crease she always tried to smooth out with a stroke of her finger. All it ever did was making him blush and frown ever more though, followed by embarrassed shouting and moments of delight for her. He hated touching, any kind of contact, and always kept a ridiculous distance between them despite the hooded glances he sent her way.

But really, whatever he did, he had her wrapped around his finger in a way every man she met dreamed of.

And ironically, he didn't even know it.

"Matsumoto, hold still!"

She snapped to attention at his impatient exclamation, grinning sheepishly while shifting her bare leg and titling her head as best she could, trying to remember how he wanted her to pose. Really, it was ridiculous how easy he got under her skin (not to mention her clothes, she mused with a breathy giggle that had him raising a brow) and got her so awfully distracted. Besides, the scratchy sound of pen against paper, or brush against canvas, could become quite hypnotic after a while…

"Sorry, sorry! It's just so boring, Toshiro-kun!" she sighed, grinning in reply to his glare from behind the canvas. The first few sessions she'd sat as his model – for the project in his class, as he'd explained, although his blush told of other motives as well – she'd been surprised at how well drawing and painting suited him. He concentrated so intently on his work hours seemed to pass like minutes, and nothing else but him, his pen or brush, paper or canvas, and the motif, seemed to exist. Every part of her – revealed; naked – was under his scrutiny hours on end and all it did was making her heart flutter and her breath hitch. His clear, teal eyes were focused on her, as if she was part of that world he created – the world of his art; his work.

In length though, even his undivided attention could get more overwhelming than flattering and she often found herself spacing out.

"MATSUMOTO!"

Like now, again.

"Ah!" she winced, apologetic this time. He'd been more on edge the last few times she'd seen him (even if she was guilty of teasing him, she suspected there was more to it) and she'd wondered what exactly he was doing. He'd thrown away so many sketches before finally settling for one, now being in the process of putting it on canvas with a brush. She hadn't been allowed to see how he fared, and therefore had no idea what was making him so frustrated. Was it her pose? Did he have trouble with some section of her body? She had asked him so many times, receiving no answer as all he did was blush (and she  _did_  wonder why he blushed at innocent contact and conversation, but not by gazing at a naked woman for hours).

It didn't mean she'd stop trying though.

"Hey, Toshiro-kun," she called, making him sigh and pause mid-stroke before peeking around the canvas with an annoyed glare. She smiled, shifting a bit to try and get some blood back into her arms. "Why won't you let me help you with whatever's troubling you? I'm sure there's  _something_  I can do!"

Whatever double-meaning she had was intentional, and he knew it, by the pink dusting his cheeks. Her smile widened.

"No, there's nothing you can do Matsumoto. You're not an artist; this is my problem," he snapped, the harsh tone of his voice making her blink in surprise. He had been annoyed before, but now…what had made him this mad?

"Toshiro?"

He sighed, putting the brush down to run a stained hand through his white hair, leaving streaks of colors behind that she found absolutely adorable. He decided not to mention them now though, for the anger building in his eyes today was shown in turmoil on his otherwise rather stoic face.

"I'm sorry Matsumoto, this is just so…so very frustrating!" he growled, sitting down on his stool with a huff. She took this as a sign for a break, and slowly sat up; wary of her stiff limbs as she slipped her legs off the couch to touch bare feet against the chilly floor of his studio.

"I know something that might help, Toshiro!" she said with a smile, meeting his skeptic gaze. "Trust me! Just close your eyes for a while, can you do that for me?"

He looked doubtful, but after a moment of silence eying her smiles, he complied with a sigh and a muttered "why not?". She grinned, titling her head as she regarded his tense form.

"Now, I'm taking a wild guess on what's bothering you, but something isn't turning out right, is it?" she continued, pausing for a confirmation. He nodded, muttering curses under his breath. "Alright, so, picture that something then. Not what you've painted, but what you've seen. What you want it to look like. Just imagine it for a while."

When no objections came, she figured he was at least trying. She sat watching him for several moments, enjoying the silence and his handsome features. Not even trying to imagine what it was he actually thought about, she occupied herself with imagining what his hair would feel like between her fingers. He was short though – just barely nose to nose with her – so if she'd hug him, she was sure it would tickle her cheek delightfully. A heavy, defeated sigh interrupted her musings and she found herself staring into a pair of softening, teal eyes.

"Did it work?" she asked, smiling. "You aren't mad anymore, are you?"

"That was your intention?" he asked, amused as well as surprised. "I thought you were going to help me with the painting, hm?"

Giggling, she shrugged. "I kinda did though, didn't I? It's hard to solve problems when you're distracted by your frustration of not being able to solve them easily, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he sighed, running a hand through his hair again, briefly looking away from her gaze to study his feet. A few more moments of silence passed before he spoke up again. "Hey, Matsumoto…can I…can I look closer at something?"

His blush was darker than before, and she suspected it had something to do with having to ask for help. But his question threw her off more than she'd anticipated. She had no qualms about it, but he had never…ever…wanted to be 'closer' to  _anything._  It meant risk for contact.

Shaking her head mentally, she scolded herself for assuming he wanted to get that close. He only ever admired her on a distance, even if he looked like he wanted to take a few more steps before stopping sometimes.

Sending him a soothing smile, she nodded. "Of course! Shall I lie back down?"

"No!" he replied quickly, shooting up from his stool, making her raise a brow in question. He was acting really…nervous? Clearing his throat, he started to walk towards her with long strides, the only sign of his hesitation showing in his expressive eyes. "Just stay there."

She obeyed; titling her head back slightly to hold his gaze as he finally came to a stop before her. He swallowed, dropping down to one knee so he was closer to her face. "Yes, you just…stay just like that…"

She was quite sure her heart was skipping more beats than considered healthy, and for a moment, she wondered if he could notice the way her breathing was so quick and short. He was inches away now though, so close it would be impossible for him not to notice, and it was torture.

"Toshiro," she breathed, not caring how breathless she sounded. He swallowed again, eyes briefly leaving hers to gaze at her lips before returning.

"I can't seem to get your eyes right," he mumbled, slightly dazed. She fought the urge to slip her hands into his hair and close the gap between their lips, wanting to know what he was doing…where this was going.

"They're blue," she said, quietly. "With a bit of grey, I suppose."

"No." He raised a hand to gently place fingers against her plump lower lip. "They're beautiful."

And then he gripped her chin, leaned in, and kissed her so softly she wanted to scream. Before she could do much else other than gasp, he was already slowly breaking it off to hover inches from her tingling lips, staring at her with such a helpless expression her anger was replaced by puzzlement.

"Are you alright? Toshiro?"

"I can't resist you," he said, sounding so resigned she would've laughed had the situation been less serious.

"Whatever made you think you had to?" she whispered, making him grin before leaning back to give them more space.

"I was wrong," he began. "You can help me with this, Matsumoto. Just let me look into your eyes for a moment…"

She sighed, confused. Hesitantly raising a hand to cup his cheek, pausing inched from contact, she held his gaze steadily. When he leaned into her enough to close the gap, she smiled.

"I thought you said I couldn't help," she said. "I'm no artist, after all!"

He blushed, but didn't pull away from her touch, eying her lips for a while.

"No, you're not an artist Matsumoto."

Pausing, he flashed her a crooked smile that made her bite her lip as it tingled.

"You are art."


	91. Bubble Bath

It had been a long day. The stacks underneath the couch that had become so familiar over the decades seemed impossibly taller; he knew they weren't, or else they wouldn't have fit underneath. Then again, Matsumoto was nothing if not creative, and he would not put it past her to invent some way of stuffing more paperwork under there than reality would allow. Nevertheless, it took up most of his morning well into the evening, and the rounds he had planned to take were put off significantly. It was an occurrence he had become adjusted to, however, and any plans of the day that were dependent on how much paperwork he had to do was in essence flexible, due to his rather unpredictable lieutenant. So once he was able to do leave his office, he didn't feel as pressured, annoyed or stressed as he remembered with a slight twitch of amusement from his earlier days of command.

He went about his rounds with his usual efficiency, this time only alert to the usual risk of incident where he visited; the lower ranking officers' offices, the training grounds and, for a brief delayed supper, the mess hall. He felt rather relaxed; only Matsumoto ever managed to turn normalcy upside down with a snap of her fingers, and he had been quite sure she was somewhere in the 8th division, or off visiting a pub, thus nowhere near his own whereabouts that day. Though it still left her roaming in his mind, it was nothing new; Toshiro had resigned himself to the fact that this woman demanded his attention whether she was present or not.

After his brief inspection of his proudly well-run division – in strong comparison to its neighbor, the 11th – he had run into his first seat, whom brought him some urgent reports on supplies. Apparently, the lieutenant had been rather impossible to locate. Toshiro didn't bother pointing out that trying to pin-point her reiatsu would be the safest bet, since he was (he thought, rather possessively) the only one familiar enough with it to get a hint of her spiritual imprint if she had chosen to hide it. Taking care of the report, which only took a few moments of skimming through the content and signing his name, he had returned to his office and looked to see if there was anything left to deal with. One glance at the time had told him his brief inspection had perhaps not been so brief, because it was well past 21:00.

Closing up, he had wondered for a moment if Matsumoto would be back, before closing his eyes and expanding his senses until he found the bright, flaring essence of his lieutenant where he had hoped it would be. Now wasting little time, for he was tired and it had indeed been a rather long day without the distraction of his second in command, Toshiro set upon returning to his quarters. The soft light of lanterns and candles greeted him as he slid his door open and stepped inside, noting the discarded outer layer of uniform marring his otherwise impeccable floor. Oddly comforted by the sight, when mess would usually make his bristle, he bent to pick it up; fondly stroking the rough fabric between his fingers as he breathed in the heady perfume underneath the smoke and alcohol which betrayed her activities of the day.

Moving further inside as he had smelled his fill, he picked up the sounds of someone moving around in the bathroom. He casually let her uniform slip back to the floor, allowing a moment of satisfaction of the sight of it simply being there, and moved towards it. Distractingly, he hoped she had drawn a bath so he might join, even though he didn't like the scalding temperature she preferred. The pros of simply sinking into her embrace after a day such as this outweighed the cons of overheating. The wall of steam hitting him as he slid open the bathroom door didn't alter his opinion, but he drew on his reiatsu just a bit to mollify at least the air entering his lungs.

He let his eyes begin their search on the floor – since no noise outside of calm breathing had acknowledged his entrance – Toshiro spotted the rest of her uniform spread across the room, apart from her pink scarf. Intrigued, he finally gave in to his initial desire and turned his gaze towards the tub. It had been years since he was surprised or startled by the sight, but he found that the awe and sudden surge of intense arousal and sometimes embarrassingly tender affection had never waned.

She had a way of displaying herself, which he knew to not always be intentional. Having fallen asleep, she was now sprawled comfortably in the bath with her long, slender legs resting bent both to one side of the tub and her head nestled in the comfortable accessory she had bought on a trip to the living world which cradled her neck and supported her head as a specially formed pillow attached to the tub's edge. It made his breath hitch and his eyes darken as he unconsciously took a step closer, admiring the way she had tied up her hair messily with her trusted scarf, leaving several damply curled locks to frame her slender neck and beautiful face, now flustered a reddish pink hue from the heat just as the rest of her exposed skin.

Moving closer still, Toshiro carefully bent down by the tub's side and rested a hand on her upraised knee closer to his grasp. He let his thumb absently massage the damp skin gently, hooded eyes observing as she stirred from her light slumber into a more desirable state of wakefulness. He felt a smug satisfaction, tempered by a humbled affection, at the fact that his spiritually strong presence – even when he was suppressing it to less obvious levels – alerted her, but provided a comfort that allowed her to stay relaxed and vulnerable.

Her eyes were beautiful when unfocused and blurry with sleep, but as recognition sparked and she blinked to bring clarity to her gaze he found that in this moment, he preferred the pleased, playful twinkle which made her eyes shine corn blue instead of resembling a silver mist.

"Welcome home, Captain," she purred; voice deep and thick with sleep. A twinge of annoyance that she had allowed herself to fall asleep in a tub filled with water, alone, came unbidden and he ignored it in favor of answering her greeting with a much longed-for kiss. She could handle herself; drowning in a tub because she fell asleep was unlikely.

"I brought home some of your paperwork I didn't manage to finish before my rounds. You're welcome to them, lieutenant," he mumbled against her lips, just to hear her gasp in horror as he stood and took a step back.

"You're not serious, are you, Toshiro?" she scowled, sitting up and resting against the tub's edge to gaze up at him with an annoyed pout. He crossed his arms; glad he hadn't taken the time to remove his uniform despite the choking heat inside the room. It wouldn't do for her to see how affected he already was; the opportunities to tease her like this was not to be lost. They never lasted more than a few moments.

"I wasn't able to leave my office until 21.40 thanks to the stacks of paper underneath the couch," he chided, sincerely this time, pausing to make sure she knew he was serious before he relaxed a bit and let a smirk quirk his lips. "So naturally, you would have to make up for it."

The pout at transformed into a wide, playful grin somewhere half-way through his lecture; shamelessly pleased. As he fell silent, she raised herself from the water and leaned forward to grab a hold of his uniform; dragging him closer until his legs bumped the side of the bath.

"I know something better than paperwork for that, Captain," she murmured, gazing up at him through her thick lashes, the blue of her eyes having darkened to match the sultry sound of her voice. He let his eyes roam, taking in her naked form now less than half-way covered in milky water and steam. Her nipples perked at his interest, and his eyelids lowered slightly in pleasure as her grip of his uniform tightened.

"I have no doubt you do, Rangiku," he mumbled, raising a hand to comb it through her messy locks and undoing the loosely tied scarf as he did. He secured it in his grip to prevent it from falling into the water, and raised it to catch a whiff of her fruity shampoo that reminded him of watermelon and flowers baking in summer heat. He briefly considered capturing the hands conveniently gripping his haori next to each other with the scarf and tying them together – rending her desirably trapped – but soon discarded the idea for a later date in favor of letting her hands travel to more urgent places.

"You know, it isn't polite to sneak a peek at a woman bathing, Toshiro, didn't anyone ever tell you that?" she mockingly scolded, simultaneously untying his uniform swiftly and sneaking her hands inside his hakama to successfully push it down to the floor and leaving only his upper-body fully clothed. Still in fundoshi but already shrugging out of his haori and the rest of his clothing, he raised a brow.

"Since you are _my_  woman, I hardly think that it applies," he pointed out, now joining her eager hands in the process of undoing his underwear. She grinned cheekily, but applied her lips to his exposed stomach instead of answering. He didn't mind, humming in approval as his hands finally strayed to her fine, silk hair again as fabric loosened enough to fall down to the floor leaving in completely naked. The hot, humid air in the room seemed less restricting now, and he allowed himself a sigh as he felt her tongue trace the lines of his muscles. Capturing her face with his hands on her cheek, he raised her as he bent down to place a soft kiss on her plump lips, earning himself a pleased moan for his efforts.

"Get in here," she breathed against him as he pulled away to nibble on her lower lip and place butterfly kisses along her jaw. He obeyed easily, momentarily letting her go as she made room for him. He slipped beneath the still hot water, settling himself against the short end of the tub and motioning for her to join. She breathed a happy giggle as she slid into a straddling position over his hips and placing him tantalizingly close to her impressive bust. Leaning in, he licked some moisture off of them, enjoying the taste of her skin and the sound of her breathy, deep voice.

"How may I please you, Captain, and repay my debt?" she asked with a playful tilt of her head, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her chest against his. Placing his hands on the familiar curve of her hips, he kissed her again. He was not verbal during sex, as she had pointed out several times, much to his sometimes embarrassment. However, he believed she talked his share and more; the only way for silence was to engage her mouth elsewhere. Grinning, he did just that; delving his tongue past her soft lips to trace the ridged roof of her mouth, the smooth expand of her teeth and the wicked twist of her tongue. Her moans, and whimpers, he had no desire to silence. Those he encouraged, it was her wit he sought to destroy. An incoherent, moaning and wanton Rangiku was enough to make him forget there was anything but her relevant for existence.

His hands slipped around her hips, cupping her bottom gently as he steered it closer to his slowly rocking hips. The wet slide of their sexes in the hot water made him shudder in exquisite pleasure, and even more so when he felt the sharp bite on his lip as she responded by grinding hard against him and sending a minor shockwave of water crashing against the tub's wall. His hands found themselves seeking out her rosy nipples, hard for him, as she took over the slow but hard thrusts between them without his assistance. Squeezing them between forefingers and thumbs, he rolled them painfully before flattening his thumbs against them gently to soothe. She broke their kiss to leave a nibbling trail of kisses and bites down his throat, settling by the juncture of shoulder and neck to lick and nuzzle as she lifted her hips in invitation. Instantly, he grabbed his now achingly hard member to help guide as she slowly lowered herself; the long, heavy sigh of enjoyment blowing cold air against his overly heated skin. He shivered and speeded up the process by bucking his hips firmly; squeezing her generous breasts in silent approval as she met him half-way and groaned.

"I can't get enough of you, Toshiro," she whispered, hugging him and giving his neck a last lick before she leaned back and arched her back; pressing down before moving up and starting rhythm that was painfully slow and equally sensual. He titled his head back, leaning heavily against the tub and breathing hard. Her hands were on his chest now, mirroring his own as she played with his nipples and mapped his chest with fingers and nails. The water sloshed around them, flooding the floor and leaving the bath emptier by the minute. He did not mind, the cooling water and slowly receding steam making the temperature near bearable. He was sure he unconsciously helped it along, but he was in no state to care; his blood felt thick in his veins, the strain in his muscles disappeared entirely and he felt the dull thud of arousal increase steadily in his lower back and stomach; occasionally spiking so intense he had to gasp for breath or moan approvingly as she continued to move above him; mumbling words under her breath, filthy desires and endearing praise.

"I've been thinking about you all day, tried to drown it out, you had work I was with Momo and even then—oh yes-even then I couldn't stop myself-" she breathed, the fast string of words momentarily registering in his mind and he growled, not very eager to hear of the company she had kept today, especially not Momo's, when they were doing  _this_  and her mind should be solely on him, as his had been on her, so many, many times.

Hand behind her neck, he jerked her down to catch her mouth and swallow her words, basking in the surrender she offered as she moaned and melted against him; his hips finally taking a more active role as hers slowed in her distraction. Thrusting hard, he picked up the pace and marveled at the music she filled his ear with. She drove him crazy, sometimes, when she let out  _those_ noises as she stretched, or put in her mouth a finger burnt on tea she spilt in her haste. They were so closely associated with  _this;_  this pleasure, this raw dance of emotion and need and  _oh yes-_

He loved it when she was so far gone that her voice simply failed her, and that lovely mouth hung open in silent praise as she arched against him. Sharp, perfect nails dug into his shoulders as she shook and gasped above him, sending shockwaves of pleasure up his spine as he drove home a bit harder, a bit faster, a bit more out of control. She was still dazed when he finally stiffened and brought her close; desperate to hold onto something as the world shattered in that breath-taking, intoxicating way only she could provoke.

"I love you," she whispered against his damp hair, caressing his free cheek as he had his other pressed against her neck and shoulder. Slowly, his breathing returned to normal and he let her sweet touch and adoration wash over his tired mind and body. It had been a long day, and the mess they'd made would no doubt be a pain to clean up.

However, at this time, he found he didn't care.

"I love you too."


	92. Flower of Death

The smell takes him by surprise. It's sweet and feminine, like flowers or candy or both. It throws him off because it doesn't belong here. It's late, late enough for filth and monsters to be crawling out from their shadows and allies. This part of town stinks of death and alcohol; the sour scents of bodily fluids and metal and the exhaust of the city. Toshiro shouldn't be out, but he's got a grandmother who's sick and this place is open 24/7 and will sell her cold medicine without fuss as long as he's got the money. He's a kid and he looks like trouble, hair spiked and leached of colour and eyes of a foreigner.

But that smell, it doesn't belong either, but when he looks around the dingy store for its source he's not sure what he'd expected but the young woman with her bobbed hair and low-cut top and high-ridden leather skirt wasn't it.  _She_  certainly seemed to belong, the tell-tale slump in her body speaking of the weariness of street girls if her clothes and make-up hadn't already given her away. She looks Western; taller than the average Japanese woman even without her heels, and that's not to mention her blonde hair and blue eyes. She's twirling a lock of short, maybe-a-wig, maybe-a-too-good-dye-job hair around a thin finger decorated with sharp, red nails while popping a pink gum and licking bloody lips. Toshiro stares for long moments, trying to fit the whore with the girly scent of summer he'd caught in the air and failing.

It's the first clue she doesn't really belong at all, despite how well she'd blended in. He isn't used to be caught off guard but the next few minutes have him utterly unprepared and it's only instinct that keeps him from making an utter fool of himself.

He's by the check-out with a bag of chips and slightly less-than-legal medicine (drugs) when it happens. The teller isn't paying Toshiro much attention, eyes dead to the world and movements mechanical and he hands him his receipt. He's just snagged the cheap plastic bag with his the chips and medicine when there's someone slamming his head down against the counter so hard he's too dizzy to fight back, barely making out the words that are shouted. Everything's a blur but he can sense the danger, there's a gun somewhere and he notes that it's probably a robbery and whoever's pinning him to the counter is desperate because he hadn't waited for Toshiro to leave the shop before he'd lunged for the cashier.

He doesn't quite think it through, but he's grown up around these parts, and he's got the kind of looks that gets him into trouble by simply existing, so it's really more of a reflexive reaction than any calculated move. He dislodges his attacker with a sharp elbow and swift sweep of his leg; it throws him off enough for a distraction but he's clearly motivated by desperation or drugs or both and Toshiro isn't strong enough yet to get up and close with that kind of strength, especially not with a possible head injury.

But the robber is hauled away from him and swung in an impressive flip to the floor; gun gone from his hands and pressed to his skull by dainty hands and a sharp, fish-net clad knee digs into his spine.

The whore's incapacitated the thug within moments, leaving the teller scrambling for the phone and Toshiro to sink down to the floor with the counter as support for his back. He's too dizzy to stand yet, and he's watching the woman warily as she keeps the thug from breaking free despite his struggles. It takes her about two seconds to get tired of his bullshit before she's slammed his head with the butt of the gun and rendered him unconscious.

"You got the cops?" she asks the teller, who's cowering behind him. Toshiro assumes he nods. "Good. I'll keep an eye on him 'til they get here." She looks over at him then. "You ok, kiddo?"

He bristles. "Not a kid," he bits out, although it's a lie. He forces himself to stand under the amused scrutiny of the whore and ignores the queasy feeling in his stomach as his head spins.

"You shouldn't be moving around yet, that was quite the blow to your head," she points out, getting up from the unconscious man on the floor to crowd into Toshiro's space. Her hands are gentle against the bump on his head but he flinches back all the same, glaring. She tuts. "Well doesn't look like you'll die, just some probable brain damage. You've got good moves though, kid."

He glares some more, shrugging, and looks for the bag he'd dropped when slammed into the counter. He picks it up and shifts uneasily where he stands. He wants to leave before the cops arrive but he doesn't need to attract more trouble by leaving a crime scene with two witnesses and a security camera. "Not a kid," he repeats, for lack of a better response.

"Perhaps not," she concedes. "Not in this part of town. But still." She's eying him like she's considering something, and he steels himself for whatever it is. She doesn't look like a pimp, though obviously she's got a hidden, lethal strength and there's little trace of the weary and defeated body language he'd observed earlier.

This woman is standing tall, confident, and she's taking up all the space. He couldn't imagine her bending over for anyone, which makes him fight down a blush because she's still fairly close and her impressive cleavage is almost at his eye-level. He's grown up around filth and he knows more about sex than he wants, but it's never been like this; a sharp tug in the pit of his stomach and blood rushing to his cheeks.

"Here," she says, ignoring his sudden shyness to fish out a card from her bra. "Take this and go home. I saw you browsing the medicine; you've got the look of having someone waiting for you."

He's about to point out the cops when he read the card. "Oh," he breathes, looking from the neatly printed text to the woman before him. Definitely doesn't belong here, not in the context he'd been assuming.

Officer Rangiku Matsumoto. Shit.

She winks at him. "Disguise. I like to prowl the old neighborhood. Sometimes I pick up strays." She gives him a meaningful look. "You've got good moves and street smarts. I've heard about you, ice-boy. Quite the reputation around these parts. Contact me if you want to make something good out of it."

He leaves in a daze that's not entirely to be blamed on the clotting wound on the side of his head.

A month later he's enrolled in the police academy, his early graduation from high school with perfect grades only enough because of the recommendation from Captain Ichimaru on behalf of officer Matsumoto. Over the next few years he learns who that woman was that picked him up that night. They call her the Flower of Death but he remembers her scent and it was sweet, like flowers, but nothing like death. She burns bright and brighter as he rises in rank, leaving ashes behind, and he follows her closely despite himself. He forces himself through the academy, cold and calculating, another type of burn entirely.

The day he becomes Captain Hitsugaya, youngest in the history of the department, he's got a name of his own. The Iceman, they call him, and he's another kind of ruthless than his deadly deceiving lieutenant.

"Congratulation, Captain," she grins at him, lips a shiny pink that matches her nails. Her hair's longer, up in a messy bun. She's in a wrinkled, partly unbuttoned white shirt and knee-length black skirt. Her shoes are sensible flats but she's still tall, her legs going on for miles, and he feels almost as small as he'd done the first time standing next to her. But he's taller now, filled out. He's Captain and stands proud. They'll go down in history, she says. He doesn't doubt her.


	93. I Got You Babe

"Well," she says, trying hard not to laugh, "This is unusual."

The dragon hisses in warning, baring his teeth and making the air bristle with chill. Rangiku suppresses her urge to shift in response to the flair of power and the cold. Her fur would protect her from the latter but her teeth and claws would do little against this beast, young as he may be.

"Not every day a dragon gets stuck in one of these," she continues, as if he hadn't made her hackles rise, gesturing vaguely at the trap keeping him prisoner. It's mage-made and done well, intermitting swirls, circles and other old symbols littering the ground, strong and ancient magic giving off a faint glow. It's what had drawn her here.

Her kind is renowned for its curiosity.

"Tell you what," she says after a few more moments of angry hissing and ice-cold glares. "I'll get you out, if you give me a ride."

Dragons are an old and honorable species. They work best with favors and bargains and bribes. They're greedy, and possessive, but honorable. This one is young, but Rangiku recognizes pride when she sees it; her own kind is full of themselves as well. Along with vanity and superiority, the two species had a lot in common. She's weary of it herself, but she wouldn't have gotten this far in life without keeping up appearances. Blend in and live or stick out and die, it's worked for her so far.

The dragon eyes her for a few moments before nodding his consent. Rangiku grins, all sharp teeth, and flexes her hands as she grown claws. A few swipes at the symbols and the magic current is broken, spell lifted. The dragon flexes before her and spreads his wings, inviting her up on his back. She moves gracefully and climbs him easily; he's small for his kind but still big enough to carry her. His scales are cold and sleek under her and she feels the coiled strength underneath. One, two flaps and he's kicked them off the ground. It's easy to hold on and she leans comfortably against him.

"Take me beyond the mountains," she tells him. "I'm going to the City."

If he's surprised, he doesn't show it, simply slices through the air in the direction she's pointed him. Laughing, she throws her head back and howls.

.

When he touches down on the ground outside the woods standing between them and the City, Rangiku jumps off with swift and easy movements. The dragon shifts to a form matching her own humanoid appearance. He's short and looks even younger, hair spiky and white like snow. The eyes are the same cold teal, his ears slightly pointy and teeth a bit too sharp.

She barely refrains from cuddling the shit out of him, but just barely.

She ends up mussing his hair instead, jumping out of the way to avoid longing her hand as he snaps his jaws at her with a growl. "Okay, okay!" she giggles, hands up in a pacifying manner before clasping them behind her back and swaying on the balls of her feet. "So, wanna come with me? I hear the City's the best this time of the year!"

He eyes her again, but doesn't reply, simply turns and heads towards the road leading through the woods. Rangiku pumps her first in victory before skipping ahead and falling into step next to the grumpy little dragon she'd adopted.

Well, he doesn't know he's been adopted.

Yet.

.

It takes three days before she learns his name. It's the first thing he's said that wasn't a growl or a hiss or a sigh or a grunt. Meanwhile, she's been talking almost constantly. She hasn't had anyone to talk to (or, well,  _at_ ) for so long that she sometimes forgets herself and lets the odd things slip. Like Gin, and the old hut they used to share. Like the thrill of climbing the Eagle Mountain, or the terror of navigating the Forest of Mist without getting lost. She tells him about the Desert of Ash, the Cursed Swamps and Moors of the Marooned. She's travelled wide and far and she's seen a lot. She makes it sound fun, most of the time. She focuses on the silly stuff, like the ghoul hosting a tea party on the moors or the werewolf who liked dressing in pink kimonos and danced for an audience of frogs by a creek. It's in the middle of her re-telling of the epic prank-wars the caravan of foxes she travelled with for a while had staged that her dragon companion speaks up for the first time.

"Hitsugaya," he says. Rangiku takes it in stride, nods, and continues because it's a seriously funny story and she'd managed to color their pelts _green_  with those bars of soap. The dragon looks as confused and dazed as he always did when she was messing with his expectations. She'd figured it out early on, enjoyed the surprise and simmering frustration coming off of him. He couldn't figure her out, for all that she talked more than she breathed. But that was okay.

"Matsumoto," she'd offered later that day, handing him a plate of dumplings with a small smile that was less blinding than her usual grins but more genuine than she'd let slip for a while.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him smiling back, just a little bit.

.

Before she knows it, almost two months had gone by. Hitsugaya had, against all odds, stayed. She'd dragged him all over the capital, exploring. It'd been so long since she'd been in civilization and she was drinking it in greedily; the life bustling around her was different from that of an old mountain or young forest. There were people of all species, here. Some still at odds but most united by trade and business and the simple fact that they lived behind the same walls with the same laws and neighbors.

Hitsugaya had made little protest when she'd found them their lodgings. They were supposed to be temporary, but the old witch they rented from had taken one look at the dragon and, Rangiku thinks, that was that.

It was becoming increasingly harder to curb the urge to crush the dragon to her chest in a crushing hug but she'd settles for grabbing hold of whatever she could reach and drag him wherever she wanted. He gave up trying to resist and warn her off after the first week and by now he barely grumbled and never flinched at contact.

Still, his face was priceless when the old witch pinched his cheeks and offered him sweets while fussing. "Your hair is getting a bit long, dear," she'd tutted and that had been it, Rangiku couldn't be blamed.

She laughed so hard she cried.

.

His first name is Toshiro.

She only learns this when they bump into the royal guard and a little girl not much older than the dragon screams it out for the whole square to hear.

The fury she feels causes her to shift half-way, her fangs and claws flashing and tail twitching. The girl bears the sigil of the royal guard and she's a mage. Even the stupidest of human knows there is too much power in a name to take it lightly.

A dragon would be so easy to bring to its knees with the proper knowledge. She's reminded on the trap she broke him out of and it chills her to the bone.

She thanks whatever deity there is that the girl hadn't revealed his last name as well.

.

Rangiku spends five days completely shifted and roaming the streets after Momo Hinamori spotted them in the square. She was an old childhood friend, Hitsugaya had explained. Rangiku had grinned, saying, "Childhood friend? You're barely out of childhood as it is, baby dragon!". Her tease had been slightly harsher this time but she's allowed to be bitter. She'd left him confused and frustrated, as she tended to do, telling him to catch up with the girl. She'd find something to occupy herself with, in the meanwhile.

As soon as he'd left she'd shifted and run off, refusing to acknowledge the terror shaking her bones and sharpening her senses. She hunts; she seeks out her own kind and buries herself in fur that's warmer and softer than the scales of her dragon would ever be. Her scent mingled with the City's in a way she hadn't allowed before, making her blend in and disappear.

She didn't dare go looking for him, but wasn't surprised when he found her, in the end.

.

He picked her up by the scruff and yanked her roughly out of the sunny spot on the roof of a downtown shack. Her feline form isn't small, but it isn't exactly big either; just large enough to rest her paws on his shoulders if she stood on her hind legs. She lets out an enraged yowl, teeth flashing, because she lost the extra baby scruff a lifetime ago and his grip is far from gentle. She shifts back and tried to dislodge his hold of her neck but he simply shakes her and growls, dragging her with him as he leaps off the roof and marches her home.

She's no match to his strength, not when taken off guard like this with her mind unsettled and confused.

He doesn't speak until they're back in their rooms (den, he called it once, and she'd laughed for almost an hour).

"You stink," he growled, pushing her down on her futon and pinning her there with his smaller frame. She squirms, frustration rising as she fails to comprehend the situation. He's breathing her in and the air is freezing around them, a sharp opposite of the warm afternoon sun she'd been basking in not long ago.

She missed it, and she's got no idea what to do with that, because she's fire and ash and she's never enjoyed the cold and its deadly bite.

"You stink of alcohol and blood and others," he rumbles, voice deeper than the childish curves of his face implies. "You disappeared for  _days_."

"Aww, did you miss me, baby dragon?" she purrs, falling back on the easy, flirty teasing. He's always hated it, so always does it when they're arguing and she's riling him up even more.

His grip tightens until her bones creak in his hands wrapped around her wrists, hissing.  _"You're mine."_

Dragons are notoriously possessive but cats  _hate_  being kept. She's no exception so she ignores the tight feeling in her chest and bucks beneath him, strength returning. Refusing to think why she hadn't attempted to get away sooner, Rangiku shifts and twists free in her smaller form, swiping at him with claws and biting down hard on his arm and he retaliates.

She fights him with all the fear and anger and hurt that's been plaguing her since his name echoed across a crowd and he turned to greet it with a soft, trusting smile. She bites and claws and thinks of how easy he turned his back and walked away. How he'd left her watching yet another back, how he'd forced her to realize how lost she's become, and far she's fallen. How vulnerable she is.

He doesn't fight back. He takes her blows and shields her, tries to protect her from her own desperation, until she's got no energy left and slumps down defeated in his grip, shifted back to human. He's panting by the end of it, cradling her close to his chest, and she hears his heart beating fast and hard against her.

"Mine," he mumbles, face buried in her hair, lips brushing the tip of her ear. The scratches and bite marks she's left behind are already healing, as are the bruises on her skin from his relentless grip. "Hinamori is an old friend. Family. She made her choice, I made mine. I didn't come here for her; I didn't stay here for her. You gave me yourself; you're not allowed to take it back. You're mine."

She shakes her head, whispering breathlessly in reply. "You don't know what that would mean. You're too young."

Stubbornly, he crushes his lips against her and it's clear he has little if no experience but she can't help but gasp at the sensation. But it's wrong, she feels so old, and she's no one's but her own.  _She_  adopted  _him_ , not the other way around and oh lord he's still a child, barely past her shoulders. She tells him all this against his lips, pressing in and off against her in determination, but he growls deep in his chest and continues down her jaw until he's buried her face in the crook of her neck. He's breathing cold puffs of air against the sensitive skin behind her ear with his nose, lips resting against the side of her throat.

"You saved me and trusted my word. You talked and you talked. You accepted my name, you gave me yours. You fed me and I you. You've slept beside me without fear or malice," he murmurs after a while, his weight steadying and warmer than she's used to. "You gave that to me. I'm not giving it back."

After a few moments, she gives in, because it's true and she's never been very good at lying to herself. "Okay," she says, tugging her hands free from his grip, gently, and sliding them around his back to press him closer still. Her chest hurts at the weight but she ignores it, rolling them over to their sides. "But no more," she adds, talking over his displeased growling that rises from his throat in warning. "Not yet."

Disgruntled, he agrees for now. She knows it won't last, because dragons are greedy, and it won't take long before he's pushing again. For now though, she's content to soak in the comfort of her dragon while he replaces the scent of the City's back allies with his own.


	94. I Got A Woman

Everyone on campus knows who Rangiku Matsumoto is. That's what Toshiro discovers on his first day at University and that's what sets the tone for his freshman year because no one face-plants in Matsumoto's boobs without consequences. He's learned that she either gives you a black eye or smothers you until you're moments from passing out, and leaves you with to the mob of violently jealous boys (and girls) to be dealt with as they'd see fit.

For Toshiro, it's an accident, because he couldn't give two shits about a blonde, airheaded bitch on the best of days and wouldn't molest anyone no matter how much skin they flaunted anyway. He's simply standing in the cue for his daily caffeine fix, turning around a bit too abruptly after paying and walking straight into the lethal airbags that woman calls breasts.

It almost knocks him on her ass, the amount of bounce they provide, and definitely spills his tea down both their fronts.

Scalding hot, delicious tea wasted.

He's genuinely angry and frustrated for about two seconds before the pain registers and he looks over to see the pained grimace of the woman he'd collided with. People are scrambling to offer her napkins and cold drinks, hands grabby and invasive, and that's when he learns what happens to those that go after her on purpose.

Three men ends up with bleeding noses and one of them is from Toshiro's elbow but he ignores the groans innocently and guides the woman away from the crowd, handing her a couple of napkins to use herself while he mutters about being late for class and makes half-hearted apologies for ruining her shirt (even if it's not much to ruin).

He's a bit blinded by her smile and her hand is gentle on his shoulder and she pats it. "It's no problem kid," she says and he bristles because _seriously,_  "I totally spaced out and didn't move away in time. Let me buy you a new cup of tea, what do you say?"

At the time he had no fucking idea who she was apart from "Call me Rangiku" and so simply shrugged because he really needed his tea and he'd be late for class either way by then so he might as well. They ended up walking back to campus together, her doing most of the talking. He admired her wit and he could understand why she turned so many heads with a smile like that. He didn't realize he'd agreed to have another cup of tea sometime until she'd walked away leaving her phone number written on his takeaway cup.

He'd never been one for dating, it was an uncomfortable business, but he couldn't help but feel slightly accomplished. He just had no idea what he'd gotten himself into, and by the time he did, he couldn't find it in himself to back away. He was never one for taking the easy way out, and Rangiku, he soon found, was despite the rumors very,  _very_  far from easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I'm finally up to date with this story. All drabbles that were on FFNet are now posted here. Phew.
> 
> Also, I realized as I re-posted that I'd numbered two drabbles with the same number twice, so on FFNet, the number of drabbles is actually one more than my numbering implies (wow that was a confusing explanation lol). WOPPS???? XD LOL.


	95. There's a Hellcat in my Den

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to chapter 93, "I've Got You Babe".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is from Toshiro's PoV and he's rather possessive, just a heads up. He's still quite young, though not a child. I don't specify ages in this 'verse because it's an AU where they're not even human so there's different rules. But in my head, Toshiro is was equals as a 17 years old teenager. The age of consent in Sweden is 15, so it's not underage for me, but well. Just a heads up. As for Rangiku, I place her in her 20's, around 25.

Toshiro regards her where she’s sprawled on the roof, content with simply watching her for now. It’s quite a pleasing sight; she’s in her feline form, all sleek lines and glossy fur. The strawberry blonde of her hair makes for a lush, thick coat in her current form, gleaming almost golden in the sunlight she’s soaking up like a dried up sponge would water.

Her eyes are closed but he knows them better than his own. He has all their shades memorized; stormy blue, cold steel, warm summer skies. Idly he wonders what shade they are today but knows, with a deep and possessive satisfaction, that he’ll have time and opportunity to find this out. The thought lends him patience and he moves on to admire the pink of her nose, the twitching of her pale whiskers. Her face has creamy markings, the same color of her soft paws and silky underbelly. She’s a delightful blend of elegance and warmth, a perfect distraction from her deadly claws that cut through steel, and sharp fangs which could pierce even his own armor of scales should she wish it.

Matsumoto, he thinks, is one of his most prized possessions to date. It’s a sentiment he’s adamant to convey in any way he can, until there is no doubt to whom she belongs, from her or any other. He knows it grates at her, knows it goes against her nature, and until she claims him fully in return it will be a source of tension between them. They are similar creatures, though Matsumoto is the freest feline he’s come across in his travels; not quite as painfully vain and deceptive as her brothers and sisters. But she is independent, lazy and very stubborn. It’s at times as annoying as it is satisfying.

She is also surprisingly honorable and wary, though, which is his current problem. That she sees him as a child is frustrating, but that’s simply a matter of time, of which he has plenty. The fact that she has yet to tell him her full name, along with her stubborn resistance to their situation, however, is incredibly vexing. Due to Hinamori’s lack of judgment, Toshiro knew Matsumoto was in full possession of his name. This would perhaps be, had it been anyone else than her, worrying. But he knew she wouldn’t let any harm come to him, not with the way she’d provided for him and trusted him, letting him into her life. He’s not allowed all the way in, though, and that more than anything, is slowly driving him insane. The need to possess her is nearly unbearable, his very being wired to own her properly. Her name, her history, her body and heart were all his to protect and love.

He’ll conquer each in time, he knows, but he is impatient. He will have her name first, and he will claim it.

The warm sound of Matsumoto’s purring breaks through his thoughts, making him focus his stare. He eyes her paws as they clench and unclench, kneading against the roof, and rises from his seated position. His tread is light and soundless but she’s as aware of him as he is of her and he sees her ears twitch in acknowledgement of his approach. Her eyes are slits of deep blue, taking in his every move as he crouches by her side.

“It’s time,” he murmurs, burying his fingers in the fur of her flank, combing through it gently. “Your name.”

She blinks, purring abruptly silenced as she tenses under his hand. He meets her stare evenly, rumbling in satisfaction when she nods, rolling over to slink up to nose underneath his chin. He enjoys her attentions as she rubs her furred cheek against the skin of his neck, running a hand down the graceful slope of her back to envelop her in his arms. Easily, she transforms in his embrace, face buried in his shoulder while her claws dance along his back.

“Rangiku,” she whispers, a kiss of hot breath against his chilled skin. He drags a hand up to bury in her hair, a tight hold of the back her head to steer her out from the cradle of his body and tilt her face back and up for his perusal.

“Matsumoto Rangiku,” he growls, satisfaction radiating off of him in chilly waves of power. His little hellcat shivers in his grasp but merely snorts in resigned amusement. He leans in to nip at her lips in retaliation, enjoying her squeak of protest.

“Toshiro!”, she gasps. “I told you, I don’t think it’s a good idea to conti—“

He interrupts her with a proper kiss, the one thing she has conceded to him in terms of physical affection since their first kiss those few weeks ago. He takes whatever she gives, greedy and ready to push for more the moment she wavers. He can tell she’s on shaky ground now, he feels utterly smug and all-powerful to reduce this proud feline to such a quivering, lustful thing with nothing but his mouth and hands. Slowly, he’s carving out a place for him in her desire, to become the satisfaction of a good grooming, the temptation of alcohol’s lack of inhibitions. Just like she has already done to him.

“Rangiku,” he repeats after breaking off the kiss, pausing only to lick along her lips and savor the burst of flavor of them both. It leaves her mouth shiny, already swollen and blushed a pretty dark pink, and he can’t help but dive in for more; pulling her lower lip into his mouth to nibble and suck at, her purrs and moans caressing his ears. It’s intoxicating.

“Toshiro, please,” she sighs once her mouth is free again, as he’s taken to travel down her delicate neck, painting her throat in reds and purples. “We can’t, not yet. But we will, I promise.”

He growls in frustration, but relents. He pets her sides, gentling his touches into lazy caresses as he pulls her into his body, letting her settle in his lap with his hands on her hips. She winds her arms around his neck and buries her hands in his hair, allowing him to tuck his face into the warm cradle of her neck and shoulder. He breathes her in, marveling as ever at the heat of her against his own chill, as he seals his mouth over a patch of skin to suckle on.

She quivers in his hold, still calming down, but she’s purring and loose. She smells like him, like _them_ , and it’s extremely gratifying. It’s enough to calm the raging surge of passion she invokes in him with a mere flutter of her eyelashes and twitch of tail or mouth. The taste of her on his tongue as he continues to feast on her neck further appeases him, though he knows that soon, it won’t be enough. He will have to continue his hellcat’s reservations, a pleasurable if frustrating endeavor, before she drives him completely out of his mind.

“Baby dragon,” she says after a while, calling for his attention. He bites down herd at the petname, a displeased growl vibrating low in his chest. She hisses in response, tensing at the pain for a moment before relaxing with an amused giggle. “We should head on down, it’s nearing dinnertime. The old witch will miss us.”

“Hellcat,” he responds, parting with her skin reluctantly even as he leans back to admire the necklace of marks he’s gifted her with. “Infuriating puss. Lazy kitten. Idiot feline.”

She cuts him off with a huff and a kiss, a modest one, a simple peck on the lips but enough to tempt him. He growls.

“All right, all right!”, she laughs, slinking out of his hold with just a little resistance from him. “C’mon my dragon, the food is calling for me.”

He resists the urge to preen, rolling his eyes at her antics instead. Standing, he winces and frowns. It takes some adjusting before he’s somewhat comfortable, his body still thrumming with the desire to love her the way it yearns to. She giggles, unapologetic, and leaps off the roof with admirable grace. He follows with ease, unwilling to let her out of his sight for too long.

“Smells delicious!” she exclaims as they enter the house. Toshiro pauses to take in a deep breath, savoring the scents that make up their den. The warm, flowery scent of his feline mixed with his own sharp, spicy one. There’s the old, safe scent of herbs and magic belonging to the witch as well, teasing in at the edges of the overpowering mix of Toshiro and Rangiku. It’s at the moment slightly covered by the scent of the spices of cooking wafting through the house.

 “Yes, it does,” he agrees, moving to follow her making her way deeper inside.          

Warm, crisp and safe. A den.

 


	96. Spaceman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's been on the run for seven years. He's chased her for four. It's time he caught her.
> 
> Sci-fi/space AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Take BLEACH and drop it in Star Trek or Firefly. Though this is more inspired than a true AU of either, so no knowledge is needed. I enjoyed making this 'verse though! For some ungodly reason there is no smut, however. Well. There's a tease. Enjoy! :D

_ Spiralem Vitae Galaxy, Alpha Quadrant _

_ In the backwaters of the Rukon Sector, Asauchi Starbase III _

 

“Seventy-five credits for a lousy shot of saké?!” she exclaimed, horrified.  _ This is what I get for slumming it, damn it. _

“Pay up or get the fuck out,” the bartender drawled with a bored voice.

“Fine,” she gritted out through clenched teeth as she got out her card to chip it. This place was far removed from the hustle and bustle of the  _ Seireitei Sector _ , where the  _ Gotei 13 _ had their headquarters. It was where people made a mostly honest living. Out here, in the far regions of  _ Central 46’s _ sector blocks, their starbases and colonies were much less supervised and supported. It invited a much less savory fight for survival; scavengers, smuggler and traders. On the rare occasions a  _ Gotei 13 _ ship came this way for ship maintenance, crew transfers or simply trading, they mostly turned a blind eye to the more questionable patrons of the base. A fact which Rangiku Matsumoto had been counting on.

“Know where I can hitch a ride to  _ Gense?”  _ she asked casually after a few sips of third-rate saké. The bartender glared, but nodded his head towards the corner of the bar, where a ragtag group of merchants sat sipping what looked like contraband spirits (that shade of black was distinctive of a Quadrant much more hostile than this one).

Nodding her thanks, she downed what was left of her drink and made her way over to the group of people huddled in the corner. She smiled, adjusted her top and winked at the first man to look up at her approach.

“Hello fellows, you happen to know where a poor gal like me could hitch a ride to  _ Gense?,”  _ she asked as charmingly as she could, coming to a stop by their table and cocking her hip confidently. They were all Pulses, she noted, and all men. Scars and missing teeth, a broken nose and discolored eyes spoke of their way of life as well as anything around here.

“Can think of several places to fit you in, for the right price,” what looked like the leader replied with a crooked grin. He leaned forward, elbows on the table, and looked her over. “Giving that it’s in a whole other Quadrant, and a rather restricted one at that...that price might be a mite high for a  _ poor  _ gal like yourself.”

Rangiku grinned. “Oh don’t you worry about that, gentlemen. I can pay. Now, what say you?”

Leaning back, the leader narrowed his eyes. “Five thousand credits, and a  _ bonus _ for my men here. They get lonely, you see,” he grinned. “What say  _ you,  _ little lady?”

Before she had the time to reply, the tell-tale frisson of  _ reishi  _ sparkled in the air, going completely unnoticed by the group of Pulses. Moments later, the shoddy bar was distinctly overcrowded.  _ Flash stepping, really? Drama Queens and show-offs. Tsk. _

“What  _ she  _ says matter little to what  _ I  _ have to say; you, Kamala Shree, and your crew are under arrest for smuggling across the Boundaries, by way of  _ Central 46  _ law,” a too familiar, icy voice stated from behind her back. Rangiku rolled her eyes and almost sighed in resignation before schooling her expression and stepping aside to avoid getting caught in the chaos that followed.

Kamala and his crew tried to flee, as did several occupants of the starbase’s bar (including, unsurprisingly, the bartender). Unsuccessfully, of course, because this was the infamous Tenth Division of the  _ Gotei 13,  _ led by the uncompromising prodigy Captain Toshiro Hitsugaya.  

This didn't mean she didn't try to make a run for it as well, but unfortunately, someone had taken a rather personal interest in her lately.

“You’re not going anywhere this time, Matsumoto,” Hitsugaya hissed in her ear, having snatched her mid-run and pushed her firmly against the nearest wall, her chest pressed against his.

“Oh dear me, seems like I’m caught! Were you sent out to clean out the garbage again, little Captain?” she drawled, a bit breathless, and not only because he was pinning her to a wall. He wasn’t so little anymore (tall enough for his hot breath to be ghosting across her ear), but he still bristled at the title she had given him so many years ago. Enough for a distraction.

She tested his grip by trying to drop and twist out of his hold, but he was quick to follow. For her troubles, her arms were twisted behind her back and she was slammed face-first into the wall. Hitsugaya pressed in close, his mouth so close to her ear his lips brushed her skin, and she could feel the air crackle with the ice of his temper.

“I chased you to the edge of our Quadrant, don’t think for a second I wouldn’t hunt you beyond our Boundaries,” he whispered furiously. Leaning back, he turned his head to address the men and women of his crew awaiting his orders. “Take the offenders to the ship and lock then up in the brig. I will handle Captain Matsumoto.”

Rangiku snorted. “Oh, you’ll  _ handle me,  _ will you, little Captain?”

“You’ve tested my patience enough, Matsumoto. I still have your ship. Behave and you might just see her again,” he said, causing her to stiffen. Losing  _ Haineko  _ had been a blow she had yet to recover from and the bastard knew it.

His grip on her arms tightened, but she refused to wince. With a sharp jerk, he dragged her away and into a flash step which had them by the docking station between one blink and the next. Before them stood the infamous  _ Hyōrinmaru _ , one of  _ Gotei 13’s _ best starships.

“Long time no seen,” Rangiku drawled, caught between dread, excitement and nostalgia. Hitsugaya snorted, causing her to look at him over her shoulder. His usually stoic features were twisted up into a smirk.

“Welcome aboard,  _ Captain,”  _ he murmured, voice no longer cold, and she barely managed to suppress the shiver running down her back.  _ Damn it. _

 

oOo

 

_ Spiralem Vitae Galaxy, Alpha Quadrant _

_ Travelling through the Rukon Sector, _

_ Starship  _ Hyōrinmaru

 

His quarters hadn’t changed much since last she had been aboard the  _ Hyōrinmaru _ , though the circumstances were vastly different. Seven years ago, she had been on the  _ Gotei 13  _ payroll. Now, she was a freelancer trying very hard to avoid her former employer. Not that it was a long-time goal she had succeeded with, and while seven years were but a moment in their lifespans, it  _ was  _ a lot when the Captain of the Tenth Division was on your tail. Never let it be said Shinigamis don’t hold grudges.

“Sit,” Hitsugaya ordered briskly, indicating she settle down by the table he kept for entertaining company in private. They had shared many a meal by that table, and it was with this ease she obeyed.

“I’m not going back,” she told him firmly, as if her message hadn’t been clear from being on the run for almost a decade. Still, better stay firm.

Hitsugaya sat down opposite her with two cups of steaming tea, an unimpressed look gracing his face. He nudged one cup over to her and took a sip of his own before responding to her statement. “Things have changed, Matsumoto. Or have you not stayed still long enough to have heard the news?”

She looked away, bitter. “Aizen is dead, yes, but so is Gin. What’s been done about that, hm?”

“The  _ Central 46  _ could not allow the massive panic which would have spread should the details of Aizen’s true actions and intentions have been made public. The matter has been rendered confidential, yes, but there  _ has  _ been change. The matter forced it upon us, made several of us realize we could not go on as we were,” Hitsugaya spoke with an unusual heat, and she couldn’t resist meeting his eyes. They burned with the conviction of his words and she felt swept up with the intensity of his passion, as she had many times before. He leaned forward and she fought back the urge to mirror him, his aura a unique gravitational pull made just for her. “I  _ understand _ why you left, Matsumoto. I know what it did to you, to find out the truth of your commissions, that you were used for a purpose so against your own morale and conscience. Why do you think you made it three years before I picked up on your trail? I  _ couldn’t  _ ask you to return without ensuring a change. But it’s happening. It’s ongoing, it will take years more, but it’s  _ happening.  _ I would have you by my side again, Rangiku. Help me move us forward, Captain.”

She wanted  _ badly  _ to believe. She hadn’t been the only one deceived, she knew. Before her sat perhaps the most honorable of all of  _ Gotei 13,  _ if not even beyond them. And she  _ missed him,  _ stars above.

She sighed, lips quirking up in a small smile. “You’ve become much more eloquent since last we spoke,” she drawled even as she remembered all the times she let herself be pulled along by his few but compelling words. “Then again, that involved a lot of screaming and swearing as I left your ship stranded on Tha’Duk IV.”

Hitsugaya snorted as he leaned back in his seat, humour returning to his eyes. “That mudpile of a stinking swamp planet should be eradicated from the Galaxy.”

“Now don’t be a sourpuss, Captain,” she grinned. “ _ Sludge  _ was a rather fetching colour on you.”

When he laughed she felt something in her relax that had been strained for  _ years _ . In the face of this man, she really was  _ hopeless.  _

 

O

 

They laid on their sides, facing each other on the bed, much later. She had her hand on his cheek as he traced patterns on her naked hip.

“Well, that escalated quickly,” she grinned feeling quite reckless and still high from a rather spectacular shag. There were many things that had changed since their last encounter, but making her cross-eyed and delirious from pleasure was not one of them. For being known as an icy dragon, cold and fierce, he was scorchingly passionate in bed (and, well, against the wall. Or, you know, on the couch. Or floor).

Toshiro rolled his eyes at her but turned his head to place a kiss on the hand resting on his cheek. Rangiku raised a brow but stayed silent. “I haven’t fucked you for seven years, Matsumoto. That time on Svek II does not count, and even if did,” he said the last part as he raised his voice when she tried to interrupt, quelling her with a glare, “that was still  _ four years ago.” _ He narrowed his eyes. “I seem to remember promising you retribution once I got my hands on you again, as I slipped away in a  _ drug infused coma. _ ”

She bit her lip, remembering catching him off guard on an official visit to the young colony. She hadn’t been able to  _ resist.  _ He would’ve never known she’d even been there had he not been so infuriatingly irresistible. She knew the risk, had slipped him a little something in the drink she’d offered to share after a rather heated encounter that had involved too many clothes and a cramped corner of an Embassy’s toilet stall on her knees. Okay, so she felt a bit guilty leaving him there after  _ that,  _ but a coma was a bit of an overstatement. “Oh  _ that.  _ I thought I preempted my apology by blowing your mind, Captain.”

She can’t remember a time she had ever been innocent, yet she persisted in trying to emulate it in her facial expressions. Surely, someday, all the practise would pay off and butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth no matter how hot this man knew it to be. Intimately.

“I think not,” he drawled, rolling them over until he had her pinned underneath him, all gloriously naked and muscled and  _ naked--- _ oh yes. “Indeed, I have been tasked to see to your discipline. Not every one of your employers over the years have been up to our government’s standards. I suppose now is a good time as any to begin.”

Rangiku squirmed and licked her lips. “Are your methods sanctioned by  _ Central 46  _ then? Should I be worried, Captain?”

He leaned down to nose gently at her neck and easily, she tipped her head to accommodate him. He nipped at her skin, bit hard at the juncture of neck and shoulder. She yelped, but stayed still as he soothed her with a series of kisses which led him down to her breasts. “They trust me to handle you anyway I see fit. And handle you, I will. I’ve had seven years to think of this. So yes, Rangiku, you should be worried.”

She breathed out a soft moan when he fell silent to capture a nipple in his mouth. There should be something she should say here, but she found herself unable to care. If this was her penance, she would happily serve it.

 

oOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Urgh now I have to update this on ffnet. Goddamn whyyyy. I can't stand that site's system after the relevation that is AO3. Blegh.


End file.
